


Lion at my Side

by Trashness



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bodyguard Keith, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Famous Lance, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining?, Slow Build, They waaaaaant each other, movie star/pop star Lance, oh no he's hot realisations, sexy photoshoots, yeah yeah you'll see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-05-07 04:56:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 81,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14663772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trashness/pseuds/Trashness
Summary: Keith is excited to finally have a permanent bodyguard contract offered to him. The pay of course is a big improvement, but he's also excited to extend himself and his skills. He'll be in charge of home security, have to attend ritzy events, get to fly to exotic locations...Wait the client is Lance McClain?Oh man... Keith hates that guy.or how Keith and Lance learn that they're not so different and gradually find solace in each other's company, away from the walls they have built up to protect themselves in the aggressive Hollywood landscape.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! this is going to be the longest fic I ever write!
> 
> Buckle up!

Keith sits in Kolivan’s office. It’s an orderly space, that feels too clean to be used. No personal items or photos sit on his boss’ desk, which makes Keith feel even more uneasy somehow. His new suit is ironed and his hair is brushed. Keith had received an email the previous afternoon to come in at 9am this morning promptly for a meeting, but the email failed to elaborate on why Kolivan wanted to see him. Whether this is a good meeting or a …. you-are-immediately-fired kind of meeting.

 

Keith has worked for the agency for two years now, working odd security jobs, extra muscle for events or additional eyes for those high profile clients. He first got the job thanks to Shiro putting in a good word for him, but Keith hopes that he has lived up to expectations. He’s never had a client complain about him. Paparazzi, sure, because he’s good at his job. Of course they complain because he blocks their shots… but that was a good thing? Right?

 

Keith’s knee bounces nervously and he fiddles with the button on his jacket’s cuff. Kolivan finally looks up from the file in front of him and clears his throat.

 

“Keith Kogane,” His voice is as low and commanding as ever.

“Sir!” Keith nods, a little too enthusiastically. In high stress situations like this, it’s easy for him to slip back into his military cadet persona. A defence mechanism that developed quickly after months of abuse at the academy.

 

“Calm down, son.” Kolivan holds up a hand. He does not smile… but his expression looks fond. Keith relaxes.

“You applied for a position here two years ago, and I took you on because one of our most skilled guards was your reference and practically begged me.”

“I remember.” Keith nods.

“I took a risk on you.”

Keith winces. He braces himself for the incoming storm. His fingers grip his armrest.

 

“And I am pleased to say that I do not regret it.”

“Sir?”

What? Keith keeps his taut posture, like a spring waiting to fly, but his face moves from composed to confused.

“You have shown great promise and I am offering you a long-term, permanent contract with a dedicated client.” Kolivan folds his hands over on his desk, awaiting Keith’s answer. He watches the smaller boy blink back owlishly.

 

“E…excuse me?” Keith tries to process what his boss has just said. A permanent contract? Really?

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Kolivan asks with a deadpan expression.

“No! No… I’m just…” Keith squints. “I thought I wouldn’t be offered a contract until I had been here for at _least_ five years?”

Kolivan shrugs.

“A client needed one. I think you’re up for it. Am I wrong?”

“No! No nononononono.” Keith beams. “So Is this… is this like Shiro’s contract with Allura?”

“Almost exactly the same. Yes.”

 

Keith’s chest clenches. He is thrilled. Thrilled to have proved himself in such a small amount of time. Thrilled to have honoured Shiro’s promise and faith in him.

 

“I recommended you, and a few others, but the client specifically chose and approved of you. So now it’s just up to you to-“

“I accept!”

 

Kolivan exhales in a way that might be mistaken for a laugh. Keith is trying to remain professional, but his mouth keeps sliding into a dopey grin. Kolivan smirks. He slides a file across his desk.

“Brilliant. Well your first task will be to escort Lance McClain to his press conference tonight, and then I’ll send his schedule-“

“Wait!”

 

Kolivan arches an eyebrow.

 

“L-Lance McClain?”

“Yes. That’s your new client.”

 

Keith casts his eyes down at the file in front of him, and sure enough, Lance’s unmistakable tan skin and award-winning smile grins up at him. Keith’s stomach turns icy.

 

“Is there a problem?”

 

_Yes. Huge._

 

“Uhhhh isn’t uh…. isn’t Hunk assigned to Mr McClain?” Keith’s voice trembles.

“Hunk now doubles as a guard and tutor to the Holt siblings. He’s been moved to them permanently as Katie Holt has entered senior schooling and is focusing on applying for scholarships.”

“Oh.”

 

_Curse Hunk and his big brain._

 

“This is a great offer, Keith. Are you having second thoughts?”

 

Keith _knows_ that this is a fantastic offer. With a client like Lance McClain, Keith will not just be attending occasional busy events, but will be involved in every facet of Lance’s life. Home security, chauffeur, publicity events, even just following him around to do his shopping. Lance McClain is the kind of famous client that bodyguards dream of. They get paid the most, have access to the coolest gadgets, and often get to travel with the client to exotic locations. Keith should be thrilled.

 

There’s just one problem.

 

Keith cannot _stand_ Lance McClain. Ok sure, he didn’t know him super personally, but he had run into him and watched how he interacted with people at events enough to have formed some kind of an opinion on him. And that opinion is not favourable. Lance is loud and arrogant. He seemed to be almost a stereotype of the Hollywood playboy, with how he relentlessly flirted with every cute girl in the room, and his right arm was a revolving door of whatever flavour-of-the-month model he had decided to date. He was vapid and shallow. He made horrifically catchy pop-music, but had now launched into superstardom with a good collection of saccharine romantic comedies under his belt. He would even have a huge blockbuster action movie premiering in the next week.

 

Lance McClain was the most famous person Keith had ever seen.

 

And he hated him.

 

“No, sir.” Keith swallows.

“Good. I’ll need you to look over the contract and sign it asap. Shiro is in the office today. Go over Mr McClain’s schedule with him and listen to his recommendations. Remember, you have that press conference tonight.” Kolivan stands, signalling the end of the meeting. Keith rises and moves to the door.

“Baptism by fire?” Keith smirks.

“And this is one of Mr McClain’s slowest days.” Kolivan hums. The statement fills Keith with dread.

 

…

“I can’t…. fucking believe I got Lance.” Keith groans. Shiro hands over a steaming mug of coffee with a sympathetic smile.

“At least it’s not Lotor.”

 

And Keith has to agree. Alright, so this contract could be a lot worse.

 

“Alright, we need to plan these routes.” He sighs. Shiro punches Lance’s address into his map software and the two begin to discuss the best roads to take.

 

…

 

Keith dresses in a clean suit for the evening and runs his fingers through his messy hair. He may dislike Lance McClain, but he still wants to make a good impression. If he does well on this contract, maybe he will be able to apply for a transfer? Or a promotion?

 

If he makes nice, Lance McClain would make an excellent reference. Keith smirks to himself as he imagines his praises falling from Lance’s self-centred lips. Keith loses himself in his fantasy as he drives past the expertly manicured lawns of Beverly Hills.

 

When Keith reaches Lance’s apartment building his good mood has vanished and left a cold feeling of anxiety in its place. His heart thrums manically in his chest. He walks up to the front door and examines his shoes one last time, before he raises a shaky hand to the buzzer.

 

“Yeah?” A male, fuzzy voice comes through the intercom.

“Mr McClain? This-“

“Oh yeah! Come up!”

 

And Keith stares dumbly as the intercom shuts off and the door is unlocked. He squints in disbelief, testing the door. Sure enough it swings freely and he steps inside.

 

Panic: Gone. Annoyance: Increasing. His shoes clack on the marble floor of the lobby and he practically stabs the elevator button with his index finger. It begins to move to the top floor. The Penthouse. Of course.

 

When the elevator doors ding and open, Keith has to admit that he is surprised at the sight of the Penthouse. It is large and picturesque, with beautiful fittings and expensive mouldings, but it is furnished…modestly? There are no fountains or opulent glass statues like he had been expecting. He walks past a casio piano, a solid wood dining room table and…. is that an IKEA bookshelf?

 

Loud quick footsteps announce Lance’s arrival. He hurries from the kitchen into the entryway. He’s tucking his shirt into his ironed slacks, and there’s an easy smile playing on his lips. Keith does not usually get starstruck, and he’s not, of course he’s not. It’s not Lance’s fame that has Keith swallowing thickly. It’s how damn attractive he looks in person.

 

“Sorry! I expected you to come through to the living area. Hi I’m-“

“Mr McClain,” Keith cuts him short with his clipped tone. “You are supposed to ask for visitor’s names and use your cameras to verify their identity before you buzz anyone into the building.”

Lance’s feet skid to a halt on the marble floor. He stands there staring at Keith with a slightly scandalised expression.

 

“I’m sorry, but it’s for your own safety. You should be more cautious.”

 

Lance slips into a curious grin. He crosses his arms over his chest and chuckles.

“So serious.”

 

Keith blinks. He then moves forward with his hand outstretched.

“Sorry about the unpleasantness, but it’s my job to keep you safe. I’m Keith Kogane, from Marmora security services.”

“Lance McClain.”

They shake hands and Keith lets himself relax. A small smile slides onto his lips. At the sight of his grin, Lance visibly perks up. He begins to roll his sleeves up to his elbows and laughs nervously.

 

“Sorry, I’m running a bit late.”

“It’s alright we don’t have to be at the car for another…” Keith looks at his watch. “Two minutes. Can I assist you in any way?”

“No! No!” Lance scurries into the spacious lounge room. His socked feet cause him to slide clumsily around the place as he quickly shuffles around plush recliners and sofas.

“Just gotta find my shoes.” He moves behind the entertainment system and lets out a victorious “Hey!” before emerging on the other side, hopping on one foot and slipping a leather loafer onto the other. He stumbles into his shoes and jogs up to where Keith stands by the door.

 

“Hang on,” Lance laughs as he pats his own ass and hips. He beams and shoots Keith a thumbs up. “Got everything.”

“Do you often forget your butt, Mr McClain?” Keith arches his eyebrow.

Lance turns to him, eyes wide and mouth a little slack. Keith worries that he may have overstepped some boundary. Surely that was in the file? Do not discuss your client’s ass? Do not sass your client at the first meeting?

 

But then Lance tosses back his head and laughs loudly. He claps Keith on the shoulder.

“No, no, but I forget my wallet and phone a lot.” His hand trails down Keith’s arm. “Now c’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

Keith smirks.

“We have 30 seconds Mr McClain.” But he follows and presses the down arrow on the elevator.

“You can just call me Lance.”

“Of course, Mr McClain.” Keith keeps his eyes forward, but he swears he sees Lance’s eyes narrow at him.

 

…

 

They move into the black, Mercedes (it’s nice, but discreet) and Keith begins the drive to the hotel that the conference will be held at. He glances at his GPS occasionally and informs Lance that his phone has already been synced if he would like to play his own music. Lance hums in agreement, then plays some instrumental guitar music that has Keith a bit surprised. He was sure that Lance would play some pop song, or maybe even be arrogant enough to play his own music. Instead, Keith finds himself enjoying the soothing instrumental music and relaxes deeper into his leather seat.

 

“Mr McClain?” Keith looks into the rearview mirror to check on his client 30 minutes into the drive. Lance is lightly dozing, but easily roused.

“Sorry to disturb you, but I need to run over the agenda for this evening.”

“Ok. Go ahead.” Lance sleepily rubs his eyes. Keith nods.

 

“We will drive into the back entrance of the hotel, where we will be escorted by the event planner and security to the conference room where you will meet with the press. Hotel security will man all the entrances, but I will be just behind you on stage.” Keith takes a left turn. The highway turns into a residential area.

“You will answer questions for one hour along with your manager. When the conference concludes we will be let out of the room before press, so that we have enough time to exit through the back entrance again.”

Keith turns onto a small road that goes past several strip malls and parks.

“Do you have any questions, sir?”

“Uhhh…” Lance looks out the window with concern.

“Yeah. Where the hell are we? I don’t recognise this area.”

“I have planned your route to avoid any busy and traffic prone areas. It is unsafe for you to be recognised whilst travelling. And I would not want you to be disturbed.”

Lance leans back in his seat with a smug expression. He nods, looking pleased.

“How professional of you, Mr Kogane.”

…

 

They arrive on schedule and Keith is happy to see events unfold exactly as he had reported they would. He parks at the rear of the hotel and they are quickly met by security personnel and a woman in a pencil skirt with a clipboard. They hurry them into the building, through several hallways until they reach the conference room, with Lance surrounded by several beefy guards the whole time.

 

They are shown the stage, which Lance climbs onto with long strides. He reaches the top and is swept up by his manager, Coran, prattling excitedly about dos and do nots. He straightens Lance’s blazer collar and shows him to his seat. Keith assumes his position for the evening at the rear of the stage, looking pensively out into the auditorium which will soon be filled with nosy reporters.

 

“Alright, and if anyone asks about his criminal records you don’t know anything!” Coran whispers.

“Whoa, Coran what? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Fantastic! Just like that! They’ll definitely believe…” Coran moves his eyes around the stage, his moustache twitching like a sixth sense is emanating from it. His eyes pass over Keith several times.

 

“Where’s Hunk?” He asks. Keith winces at the name.

“Oh uh, Hunk is now with Pidge full time.” Lance explains. Keith steps forward in preparation.

“This is my new bodyguard, Keith.” Lance introduces. Coran takes Keith’s outstretched hand with a smile.

“Hi, Keith Kogane, I’ve worked under Takashi a few times.” He smiles.

“Takashi?” Coran ponders. “Oh Shiro! Yes, yes, we love Shiro. Fine man he is. Tell him I say hello.”

“Of course.”

 

Keith steps back to his place as the woman with the clipboard hurries onto the stage.

“We’re letting the press in now if that’s alright. Can we get you anything to drink?”

“Water please.” Lance smiles.

The woman grins in reply before hurrying away.

 

Press soon begins to fill the room and a glass of water makes its way in front of Lance. Cameras flash and a buzz emerges from the audience. Coran clears his throat and introduces himself and how the evening will run. His distinctive accent pierces through the microphone. Hundreds of hands raise into the air as Coran begins to select ones to ask their questions.

 

Keith barely listens, too busy looking out into the audience at hands and faces, looking for any suspicious behaviour. At least that’s what he’s trying to do, but even he struggles not to focus on Lance and how he charms his audience.

 

“Are you excited about your new movie coming out? It’s your first action movie, so how was that a different experience?” A reporter rushes to get her whole question out.

“I’m very excited!” Lance laughs. “I’m always excited when I have a movie out, but I’m definitely a bit more nervous about this one. Because it is action, I worry that people will compare me to all the other amazing actors in that genre. There’s a big expectation.” He glances nervously down at his hands.

“But I had so much fun making this movie. The props department will tell you I had way too much fun pointing my blaster all around the place.” He chuckles and the audience laughs with him.

“They ended up having to confiscate it from me until I _absolutely_ needed it for a scene!” He laments and the audience laughs harder.

 

Keith is impressed at how engrossed the reporters seem to be, especially since this press conference is _just_ for Lance McClain. It’s not him and his co-stars, or him and several recording artists. It is just _him_. Which shows just how focussed the media is on him at this time.

 

“When is your next album out? Do you still want to do music?” Another reporter asks. Several people nod in agreement.

“Of course!” Lance exclaims. “Don’t worry, I will never abandon my music. I think after this movie though, I’m going to take a break for a little while, have a little holiday, then come back refreshed and ready to work on my next album.”

A rehearsed answer, Keith notes.

 

“Lance you’ve had an eclectic dating history.”

Coran hones in on the reporter, ready to cancel this question at the slightest inappropriate comment.

“You’ve dated Nyma, Plaxum, is there a certain quality in a girl that you find attractive?”

 

Nyma! That was the name of the model Lance had dated for a good length of time. It had been on the tip of Keith’s tongue all day. She also flew under Keith’s radar at events, famous… but he wasn’t sure what for. She was statuesque, ethereally beautiful, and could murder a man with her collarbones. Her and Lance seemed like an extreme power couple. He was charming and handsome, she was beautiful and intimidating. What could go wrong?

 

Keith recognises the other name, Plaxum, immediately. He had even met her a few times. She was a young actress, just branching out after a few years of being considered a child actor. She had grown into a nice girl-next-door type, so of course she had fallen head over heels for Lance on the set of some cheesy romance movie. Keith remembers that one. Lance was like a stable boy or something? Anyway he wore a lot of tank tops and always had hay in his hair, and honestly he always felt bad for Plaxum. She never stood a chance.

 

“Uh nice?” Lance serves his trademark grin. The reporters eat it up.

“Honestly, I just like girls who can have a real conversation with me. Who I think are kind and interesting. I don’t really have a _type_.”

“You’ve been seen a lot with Allura. Is there anything there?”

 

Keith tries hard not to snort. Allura is wildly out of Lance’s league, and he hopes he knows it. Allura, while extremely gorgeous, was also known for her humanitarian work and graduating from an Ivy League school. She is the heiress to one of the world’s largest companies, but has used her funds to open technical colleges for girls in troubled neighbourhoods and water purification sites in rural towns. She is untouchable and incredibly kind. No. No way in hell would she ever date _Lance_.

 

“Oh uh,” Lance rapidly shakes his head. “Allura and I are good friends. That’s it.”

“Are you currently interested in anyone?”

“No.” Lance replies quickly.

“I think that’s enough questions about my boy’s romantic interests.” Coran interrupts, clapping Lance on the back. They both laugh, but the message to the reporters is clear: _new topic please._

 

“Mr McClain! There was a rumour that you disliked working with Lotor on your most recent film!”

A brash reporter states.

 

And for once… for one tiny moment… Keith sees Lance’s facade crack. It’s minuscule, but there is a flicker of distaste in his expression. Before he puts himself back together and laughs.

“What?!” He gasps. “Lotor just has a little cameo, I barely even _saw_ him.”

He crosses his arms and scrunches his eyebrows, visibly thinking.

“Althooough…” He taps his chin. “I do know that he stole the last macaron at the catering table and I have never forgiven him for that” He drawls with a smirk. The reporters laugh and seem to buy it.

 

An expert play.

 

The reporters ask several more inane questions before Coran wraps up the evening. Lance blows a kiss, waves, then stands. Keith flies protectively to his side and they make their way from the stage. More security personnel appear from the sides and flank them until they have safely reached their parked car. Keith opens the door for Lance who slides in with a grin. Keith thanks security for their efforts, then begins to pull out of the parking lot.

 

…

 

The drive back to Lance’s apartment is quiet. Lance closes his eyes and drifts off to the sound of rhythmic guitar music. When they arrive, they move quietly up to the penthouse. Keith pauses in the entryway.

 

“Mr McClain, I’ll need to go over a few things with you. Where would be most comfortable for you?”

“Things?” Lance shirks off his blazer. “I guess the living room?”

 

Keith follows him into the living area and sits on the couch. He immediately begins rummaging around in his black shoulder bag. Lance sits next to him and kicks off his shoes. He rubs his face.

 

“Mr McClain, do you know what this is?” Keith holds out a very small, rectangular device, no bigger than a pack of gum. There’s a small button in the middle of it. Lance shakes his head.

“This is a panic button. You need to keep this on you at _all_ times. If you hit it, I will receive a direct message to your location and come and find you.”

Keith hands over the device. Lance turns it carefully over in his hands.

“Why can’t i just call you?”

“Because you might not have your phone on you. Or you may want to call for help more… discreetly.”

“If I don’t have my phone on me, how would I have this?”

“Use your imagination.” Keith drawls. He wears a serious expression, but he can see Lance begin to smirk.

“What are you implying, Keith?” He winks. Keith rolls his eyes, which just makes Lance laugh harder.

 

He then sighs and sinks deeply into his leather couch. The cushions swallow his narrow hips.

“Do press conferences tire you out?” Keith asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“They’re draining. I’m always terrified I’ll say the wrong thing.”

“Like that you hate Lotor?”

Lance’s eyes widen and he beams. He looks manic almost.

“FUCK. LOTOR.” He leans far forward and laughs.

 

Keith finally crumbles and laughs with him. He tries to hide it behind his fist, but Lance catches him.

“So you _can_ smile.” He grins triumphantly. “Do you share my opinion then?”

“It would be unprofessional of me to say.” Keith chuckles. He sighs, then begins to pack up his bag.

 

“I should leave you to your evening.” He stands. Lance does as well.

“Oh uh,” He steps forward. “Do you want to stay for a bit? We could hang out… play video games or something?”

The young man bounces from foot to foot and his hands flutter at his side. Keith eyes Lance skeptically, but his request seems genuine. His expression softens. He smiles gently.

 

“Bodyguards are friendly, but never familiar, Mr McClain.” His voice is quiet. Lance leans back, sinking his hands into his pockets. He nods with understanding.

“I get it. At least let me walk you out.”

“Of course.” Keith politely nods.

 

They walk back into the entryway where Keith waits for the elevator. The doors soon ding and swing open.

“Goodnight Mr McClain.”

“Goodnight, Keith.”

 

Keith backs into the elevator. The doors start to slip closed. but for some reason Keith is shoving his arms between them, preventing himself from leaving just yet.

 

He’s just as surprised in himself as Lance seems to be. They stare at each other dumbly, Keith’s mouth moving silently.

“S…sorry, and excuse me if this comes off as rude I was just…” The questions thrums from the back of his mind where it has lay in waiting all day and it is now rocketing towards the tip of his tongue.

“Mr McClain, why did you approve of _me_ as your new bodyguard?” He forces out. Lance blinks owlishly. Then playfully shrugs and smiles.

 

“You’re hot.”

“Wha-?” Keith gasps.

“You were the only bodyguard who worked with my image. I can’t be photographed next to any duds.”

 

And the doors close between the two as Keith is too shocked and horrified to move.

 

He rides the elevator down, and as he descends, his hatred rises. He finally emerges in the parking lot fuming. He aggressively throws open his car door and tosses his bag onto the passenger seat. He sits with a loud thud and slams the door shut.

 

“Idiot.” He hisses.

 

Of course he had been chosen for such a shallow reason. It had nothing to do with his skill set. Lance just wanted him as a prop, another accessory at his side.

 

Why had Keith honestly expected anything different?

 

…

 

Keith wakes up the next morning before the sun rise. He immediately opens his email where he retrieves Lance’s schedule for the day. He pours over it with a piping hot cup of coffee, unsweetened and dark. He is miffed to see that he will essentially be a personal assistant for the day, taking Lance shopping until the premier of his action movie that night.

 

Premiers are difficult because of how close the public is allowed to get, but they can be fun and exciting. At least Keith will get the chance to work with several of his friends throughout the evening.

 

Keith sighs and finishes his coffee before showering. He dresses in his standard black suit, then makes his way back to Lance’s apartment.

 

…

 

Keith presses the buzzer and waits.

“Yeah?”

“Morning-“

“Come on up!”

 

Keith groans. He stomps through the lobby and punches the button in the elevator.

 

When the doors ding open, Lance is lazily walking towards Keith, eating a bowl of cereal.

 

“Hey-“

“Mr McClain, what did I tell you about checking the cameras before letting anyone in?” Keith lectures.

 

Lance chews once… twice… three times.

“Oops.”

 

Keith rolls his eyes.

“Our appointment with your tailor is in an hour. We should leave soon. Will you be ready?”

“I’ll eat fast.” Lance nods and wolfs down the rest of his cereal.

“Have a seat!” He yells back as he moves to the kitchen. “I’ve just gotta clean this up and get changed!”

 

Keith moves to the living room and waits patiently. Thankfully, he’s used to early mornings, but it still feels nice to have a moment of peace before he is launched into a full day of listening to Lance mouth off and schmooze other celebrities. He closes his eyes and leans back in the recliner, fingers folded over his chest.

 

“Should I leave you to your nap?” A soft voice fans over his face. Keith cracks open an eye to see Lance leering over him. He’s wearing a pair of fitted, worn, pale blue jeans and a knit tank top. There’s a scarf looped around his neck, and his slender wrists are decorated with a few beaded bracelets. Large sunglasses sit on the end of his nose.

 

“Is this you trying to look inconspicuous?” Keith smirks.

“No this is me trying to look hot.” Lance grins. “Is it working?”

“We should get going, sir.” Keith stands and makes his way to the elevator. A thrill rushes through him when he glances Lance’s pouting expression.

 

…

 

They arrive at the expensive menswear store, and Keith has to admit that he is intimidated. The entire space has been closed just for their visit, so Keith is left to gawk at the expansive range of luxury clothing. Racks filled with woven silks, wool and cashmere. Brands that Keith could only dream of _touching_ cover entire walls. A crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and beautifully upholstered sofas collect in a viewing area around the change rooms.

 

A man dressed entirely in velvet greets them when they enter, and moves about the shop excitedly.

 

“Lance McClain! Perfectly on schedule! I will run and get your suit.” He calls over his shoulder.

 

He soon returns with a suit bag draped delicately over his arms. He hooks the hangar onto the door of a fitting room and unzips the bag, letting Lance examine the suit inside. It’s a dark navy colour, with narrow lapels and silver buttons. Lance coos over it and lets his fingers move over the fine fabric.

 

“You should try it on. Just to test the fit.” The shop assistant offers. Lance nods and takes the suit into a fitting room. It takes several minutes, and while Keith waits, he allows himself to inspect a jacket next to him. It’s black, but covered in floral embroidery. Beautiful, but too ostentatious for Keith’s style. His finger grazes the price tag.

 

He chokes on his own spit when he sees the ungodly large number.

 

“How does it look?” Lance emerges from the fitting rooms pulling at the cuffs of his jacket.

He looks…. _excellent._ Keith’s gay heart begrudgingly admits. The suit is tailored beautifully to his body, nipping in his narrow waist and making his legs look impossibly longer. His chest looks broad and it’s emphasised by the slim red and blue tie that hangs from his neck.

 

“Oh wonderful!” The sales assistant runs over and begins to smooth out the material along Lance’s chest and arms.

“Just like we discussed. Is it comfortable?”

“Yeah, seems to be.” Lance twists and turns to test his range of movement. He smiles and looks up towards where Keith waits.

“What do you think?”

 

Keith is surprised that Lance would want his opinion. But he regains his composure and nods towards the jewellery case.

“Do you have some matching cuff links already?”

“Ooooh.” Lance giddily skips over to the case. He presses his hands against the top glass and begins to scan over all the sparkling accessories. He’s immediately drawn to the silver cufflinks, which will match his suit’s buttons. Keith approaches and looks into the case.

 

Again he is floored by just how extravagant some of the accessories are. His eyes glaze over the Rolex watches and chunky rings before he joins Lance’s side. His gaze catches on a pair of silver cufflinks with a blue topaz inlay. He moves a bit closer.

 

“Something catch your eye?” Lance slides over.

“I just thought these were nice.” Keith taps above the cufflinks he's admiring. Lance hums in agreement.

“They match your eyes.” Keith notes. Out loud. Oops.

Lance sighs and leans forward on the case with a cocky grin.

“Do you spend a lot of time looking at my eyes, Keith?”

“I need to know in case I have to file a missing person’s report.” Keith states with a bored expression. It does nothing to falter Lance’s smile.

 

“Thomas, can I get these topaz cufflinks please?” Lance calls. The sales associate takes them out of the case and fastens them to Lance’s cuffs for him. He flashes his wrists with a pleased grin as they sparkle.

“Yes these will do nicely. Thank you.” He hands his wrist back over to Thomas, who removes the cufflinks, then places them in a velvet lined box.

 

Lance disappears back into the fitting room and emerges several minutes later back in his casual clothes. He hands his suit to Thomas, who begins to repack it into the bag for him. Lance moves over to several of the clothing racks and flips through several different suits. His fingers hesitate on a collection of deep charcoal jackets as he rubs the fabric between his fingers. He finds one that he likes the look of and holds it in front of himself. It’s another slim fit suit, with narrow lapels. It is a very dark grey, that almost looks black in shadow. Lance raises it to eye-level, smiles, then places it back on the rack. He continues to browse before he picks up a knee-length, black, overcoat with a giddy sparkle in his eyes.

 

“Sir, you have excellent taste, but I think those jackets you’re looking at might be a bit too big for you. Would you like me to find one of those coats in your size?” Thomas emerges after carefully hanging Lance’s suit on the fitting room door.

“Oh!” Lance bashfully turns back to the coat in his hands. “No, no, I wasn’t looking for myself. This is for him.”

And Lance cocks his head in Keith’s direction.

 

Keith actually looks behind himself. Surely Lance can’t mean him. And yet, no one else is there. He stares at Lance in confusion, then hesitantly points at himself.

“Yes, Keith. Get over here.” Lance tosses the coat onto Thomas as he begins to fully submerge himself in black suits.

“S-Sir!” Keith rushes over. “I don’t need anything. I assure you my current uniform is just fine.” He rushes out in a hushed tone, desperate to get Lance to stop. Lance scoffs.

“Thomas,” He rolls his eyes along with the sales associate who seems to be in on some inside joke. Thomas reaches out and rubs Keith’s shoulder between his fingers. He grimaces.

“Ugh, polyester.”

“It’s fine!” Keith reassures.

“It’s cheap.”

Keith glares at Thomas who visibly tenses. He then moves to Lance’s other side and speaks quietly, so just the two of them hear.

 

“Mr McClain, I can’t afford any of the clothes here. I’m sorry if you don’t like what I’m currently wearing but-“

“Keith, I’m paying for your clothes obviously.” Lance waves off his concerns like they are insignificant.

 

Keith balks. Lance smirks over his shoulder as he hands several more suits onto Thomas’ outstretched arms. He then begins to march purposefully to the casual clothing section. Thomas stumbles behind him dutifully.

 

“Sir, I cannot possibly allow you to buy me anything. I can’t accept-“

“I’m sorry!” Lance slams down the collared shirt he had been looking at. He turns to Keith with a determined expression and his hands fly to his hips.

“I’m a bit confused about our current standing. Are you not supposed to keep me happy? Am I not your boss?” Lance asks indignantly.

Keith stews silently. He knows he’s been backed into a corner. Lance knows he has him beat. He grins widely and grabs the suit on top of Thomas’ pile. He shoves it into Keith’s chest.

“And what would make me happy is if my bodyguard had some decent clothes.” His voice becomes quiet. The two men glare at each other for a heavy, uneasy moment.

 

“Brat,” Keith grabs the suit and sulks towards the fitting room. Lance claps loudly and follows him, skipping.

“Now sing out if you need any help.” He lifts onto his tip toes and cranes his neck over the fitting room door.

“Get out!”

He staggers back as Keith’s old jacket is thrown into his face.

 

Keith spends the next hour being dressed up like a doll. Whenever he’s made it through one pile, Thomas comes in with a brand new pile. He tries on suits, t-shirts, collared shirts, wool coats, jeans, silk trousers, even new shoes. And after every outfit he walks out of the fitting room and is met with Lance clapping and giggling excitedly to himself. He showers Keith with compliments and tosses the outfit onto the ‘definitely’, ‘maybe’ or ‘no thank you’ pile.

 

Thomas chimes in with advice and is, of course, not missing a single opportunity to add on extra sales.

“Oh sir, don’t you think he needs some brown shoes for this suit?”

“Of course! Every man needs brown shoes.”

This adds another five minutes to Keith’s torture.

 

Eventually Keith is down to what he is sure is his final outfit. It’s the first suit Lance initially picked out, a very dark grey wool blend with slim lapels. Keith slips into it and is surprised at how well it seems to fit. He has a hard time with suits because he’s skinny, but with broad shoulders and not very tall. But this suit hits his shoulders, wrists and feet in exactly the right places. It feels soft to touch and is pleasantly light. Keith actually smiles when he sees himself. There is still a trace of it when he steps out of the fitting room.

 

“Oh,” Lance’s eyes twinkle.

“Oh we like this one.” He beams. There’s a playfulness in how his eyes crinkle with a smile. He ducks his head, trying to catch Keith’s downcast eyes.

“And I can tell you like it too.”

Keith hates how heat rushes to his cheeks. He lets out a small puff of laughter.

“It’s very nice.” He admits.

“I’m glad you like it.” Lance’s eyes roam over Keith’s body. He’s fingers move to his waist and if his fingers graze Keith’s stomach as he checks the fit of the jacket, Keith doesn’t say anything.

 

“We should get going. Your hair appointment is coming up.” Keith checks his watch. He had thrown a fit when Lance offered to buy him a new one, but Thomas had actually commented that Keith’s watch was very expensive and probably needed for his job.

 

“Wear the checkered shirt with the brown suede coat! Oh! And the dark trousers!” Lance suggests.

“I don’t know if they’ll let me wear items out.” Keith hopefully offers.

“Oh no, sweetheart. You can wear it. It’s no problem.” Thomas insists.

Keith forces a smile.

“Oh good.”

 

He changes into the suggested outfit and meets Lance at the registers, who is poised to slice his credit card in the machine. Thomas is practically vibrating with every new item he scans. The numbers on the register jump higher and higher. Keith’s stomach sinks.

 

“Sir, if you’d like, I can organise with payroll to dock my pay check to pay you back-“

“What?” Lance gasps. “No, no I don’t want you to pay me back. Let me be my generous self!” He exclaims and he slices his card through the machine with a triumphant flourish.

 

…

 

Keith feels sheepish and out of place somehow as he walks next to Lance McClain to a luxury spa down the road. He isn’t sure whether he should say thank you? When he had never wanted the new clothes in the first place? But it made Lance happy, so he supposes that it was worth it.

 

They walk into the spa and Lance is greeted by his first name. He kisses the girl on the cheek, European style, and she leads them into a private room. Lance slips out of his shirt like he’s used to this routine. The room is dimly lit and smells heavily of mint, jasmine and salt. Ocean sounds play over a speaker and candles are lit in a corner. Keith sits awkwardly in a corner. He watches with some interest as Lance is given a facial. He’s surprisingly quiet through the whole process. His skin is lathered up with various different soaps, covered in masks and wrapped in towels. The cosmetologist compliments his skin frequently, but he just replies with a polite “Thank you”.

 

The facial finally ends and they are shown into the salon. Lance is again passed from specialist to specialist as his hair is washed, scalp massaged, and finally his hair is cut.

 

“You really should let me give you an undercut.” His stylist pouts. Lance laughs.

“Sorry. Studio says I can’t make too many drastic changes for a few years.”

His mouth twists into a smirk.

“But do you think you could do something about my bodyguard’s mullet?” He sighs.

“Don’t you even think about it.” Keith growls. Lance laughs loudly, which earns him a flick behind the ear by his hairdresser.

“No moving. I might cut you.”

 

…

 

When Lance is perfumed and blow dried, there is just enough time for Keith to drive them back to his apartment to get changed and meet Lance’s date. Keith pulls Lance’s new suit from the car, but Lance also has his arms full of Keith’s new clothes.

“You need to wear your new suit too!” He laughs.

 

They make their way into the apartment and Lance shows Keith into the guest room to get changed. Keith puts on the wool suit, the one he had been so fond of, and he hates how it makes him smile. Even if he has to wear it with overpriced, too-pointy shoes.

 

Lance waits impatiently on the other side of the door. An expert in formal wear, he is already in his new suit, trimmed with the topaz cufflinks and red and blue striped tie.

“Here I have the final touches.” Lance hands over a burgundy coloured tie.

“Do you like red?”

“My favourite colour.” Keith shyly smiles. He slips the tie over his neck and ties it with deft fingers. Lance helps lay his collar flat.

“And last, but not least.” Lance hands over a dark box. Keith eyes him suspiciously at how familiar it looks. He pops it open to reveal slim, silver cufflinks, but with a black onyx inlay. Keith shakes his head.

“I don’t know how to put these on.” He sighs.

“Oh! Here, then.” Lance takes the cufflinks from the box and threads them through Keith’s cuffs. His long, tan fingers are warm as they brush against Keith’s wrist.

“There we are.” Lance sighs. Keith smirks at his gleaming wrists.

 

Lance smiles down on him with a fond expression. He places his hands on Keith’s shoulders and beams.

“So handsome.” His eyes linger on Keith’s chest as his hands move slowly down his arms. The contact lingers for slightly longer than Keith expects.

“I have fantastic taste.” Lance snaps out of his trance to shoot Keith a wink. Keith scoffs.

“C’mon, you know you look good.” Lance sings. He straightens Keith’s tie. “And it’s nice to see you finally smile”.

“Smiling isn’t my job.”

“I know, but i want you to _like_ your job.” Lance bats his lashes. Despite himself, Keith chuckles.

“There we go.”

 

A sharp buzz rings out and Keith snaps to attention. His eyebrows lower into a serious scowl and he marches towards the entry way.

“Ah, back in professional mode.” Lance laments sadly behind him.

Keith pulls up the security panel and presses the camera button. A live feed comes to life, showing the entry to the apartment building.

 

In grey footage, Keith recognises Shiro, standing up straight in his black suit and black tie, dark sunglasses making him look more intimidating than the softie he really is. Allura stands next to him, soft, long hair fastened into a tight bun and ringlets framing her face. Her slip dress cascades onto the ground at her feet.

“Come up.” Keith speaks into the mic and lets them in.

 

He and Lance step away from the elevator to wait for their guests. Allura is the first one out, with a brilliant smile and long arms that sweep Lance into a tight embrace.

“Lance! It’s been too long!” They laugh. “Oh and this suit! It’s so nice, but you always look fantastic in a suit. I hate you. You make it look so easy.” She lightly slaps him on the arm.

“Allura, you are as radiant as ever. Love the dress.”

“Oh this old thing?” But she twirls all the same. “I’m wearing two pairs of Spanx so it better look good.”

“You really don’t need them.” Lance assures.

“Oh stop it, you’re always saying-“

 

Her bright eyes finally take in the other person in the room. Her smile lights up with mischief.

“Oh, Lance,” She stage whispers. “You haven’t introduced me to your friend.” She is quick to move over to Keith, who’s eyes widen with nervousness.

“He’s so handsome! Oh I love your tie, it works great with your complexion. You must be a model right? Your hair is so chic, very European music scene.” Her compliments come out with such rapid enthusiasm, that Keith can only blink in terror. She touches his shoulders and tie as she compliments each one.

“Allura, please stop pawing over my bodyguard.”

 

Allura’s face pales. She steps back and clears her throat. All the fun and frivolity in her voice has vanished as she takes on a more professional persona.

“I’m so sorry, please excuse me.”

“It’s alright.” Keith breathes. Shiro is sniggering in the corner.

“I’m Allura D’Altea I hope… I hope I haven’t acted too inappropriately or made you feel uncomfortable.”

Keith takes her delicate hand.

“Not at all. I’m Keith Kogane, Mr McClain’s new bodyguard.”

 

“Keith worked under me for several years at the agency, but he’s all grown up now.” Shiro finally makes his way over to the group.

“Oh how lovely.” Allura softens. “But I hate to ask…. have you replaced Hunk then?”

“Ah Hunk has unfortunately been moved to be Matthew and Katie Holt’s full time guard and tutor. He’s particularly talented in advanced mathematics and sciences.” Keith explains, though he worries that Allura is disappointed to have lost a familiar face. He now wonders if Lance feels that way too. Had he been good friends with Hunk?

 

Did Lance wish he could have his old guard back?

 

Keith pushes the negative thoughts away and plasters on his best professional smile.

“Well that’s unfortunate, but it’s nice to meet you, Keith. Lance and I are good friends, so I hope we’ll see more of each other.” Allura smiles.

“Of course.”

“We should get going.” Shiro checks his watch. They all nod and pile into the elevator. It feels crowded when the doors close.

 

“Now Lance,” Allura narrows her gaze on the younger man. “You have to promise me no after parties tonight.”

“Aw Allura, it’s only a party if I show up.”

“No!” She hits him with her clutch. “I have an early flight in the morning! I can’t be out all night eating carbs!”

“Fine, fine.” Lance bats her attacks away. “We’ll have an early night!”

“Good.”

 

…

 

Shiro drives the car this time. Keith sits next to him in the passenger seat, while Lance and Allura ride in the back. They chat pleasantly with each other, whilst Shiro and Keith speak in hushed tones.

 

“Here’s your ear-piece. All the guys from the agency are on channel 3. We have several plants in the crowd to help keep an eye on things as well.”

“Good.” Keith loops the earpiece around his cartilage, but doesn’t turn it on just yet.

“I’ll hand the vehicle off to a valet when we arrive and we’ll have to escort our clients up the red carpet. Try to avoid getting in photographs.”

“Of course, Shiro. I’ve done this before.”

Shiro fondly smiles.

“You’re right. I forget you’re not my little apprentice anymore.”

“I was never your apprentice.” Keith scoffs.

“You were in my heart,” And Shiro clutches at his chest. Keith ignores his dramatics.

 

“But I’m excited to see Pidge and Hunk again. It’ll be like the old gang, you know?” Keith hears Lance’s conversation drift up from the back of the car.

“Yeah it’ll be nice. Will Matt be there?”

“Oh yeah. I’m sure he will.”

“You know who else will be there?” Allura leans back in her seat. She raises her eyebrows with a curious smirk and crosses her legs. Lance shrugs.

“Lotor.” She answers.

“Ugh, Jesus, fuck.” Lance groans. He rubs his face in annoyance. “Let’s hope we’re inside when he arrives.”

“I’m warning you so you don’t make a scene.”

“There won’t be a scene if he minds his business.” Lance scowls. He turns his body to glare out the window at the passing street lights.

 

Shiro and Keith exchange a glance.

 

…

 

They arrive at the theatre and Keith is surprised at the chaos that greets them. Flashing lights, shouting voices and screaming fans. Keith slides his ear piece into the on position and winces at the pop.

 

Lance opens the door for Allura like a proper gentleman, and the camera flashes increase. Shiro tosses the keys to the valet, before following behind Allura and Lance.

 

“Thace, Antok, are you in the crowd?” Keith speaks into his mic.

“I’m on your 3 o’clock.” Thace reports. Keith looks to his right and sees the familiar face in a sea of teenagers. He gives a little wave.

“Antok?” Shiro asks.

“Right in the thick of it.” A gruff voice comes through. Keith looks at the middle of the crowd. The burly man stands a full head above everyone, making him easy to spot. They lock eyes and nod.

 

Shiro and Keith, now feeling supported, begin to slowly follow their clients as they make their way up the red carpet. They wave at the fans and stop on their marks for photos. Occasionally, Lance will step forward to answer questions with his usual charm and charisma. Allura comes with him, but she knows that this is _his_ night and is sure Lance has all the focus. She laughs at his jokes and politely steps to the side when people ask Lance for individual photos.

 

“Nice suit by the way.” Shiro rumbles in Keith’s ear.

“God,”

“Can you ask Lance if he’ll be my sugar daddy too?”

“I will end you.”

Shirt’s laugh vibrates low in his chest.

 

Keith ignores him as he keeps his eyes peeled on the crowd. Eyes, hands, eyes, hands, eyes, hands. His gaze flits between the two points on everyone, looking for anything suspicious.

 

“Pidgeon!”

Keith’s focus snaps to Lance as he yells out. But it’s a happy yell. He’s jogging towards a young girl, Katie Holt, with outstretched arms. They hug and laugh loudly as they collide. She’s wearing a tweed coat with an emerald green jumpsuit. It looks very adult on her small frame. Her brother stands just behind her, squeezing Allura’s arm with a smile and hello.

 

“How are you?! I’m so excited to see this thing.”

“You and me both. I might vomit.”

“Stop. I have faith in this. It’s your action debut! Be excited!”

“Yeah, Lance, I’m always telling you you’re great.” A familiar voice booms. Lance follows the sound to a large man hanging back. His biceps strain against his black suit, but his smile is large and kind.

“Hunk! Buddy!” Lance leaps towards the other man. Hunk laughs and pulls him into a crushing hug.

“How are you? I miss you!” Lance is almost jogging on the spot with joy.

“I’m good.” Hunk nods.

“Hey, don’t you be stealing my bodyguard.” Pidge warns. She joins the duo at the rear of the carpet. Keith inches closer, not liking how far away Lance is getting from him. Not because he wants to eavesdrop. Definitely not.

 

“She better be nice to you.” Lance ruffles Pidge’s hair. She pushes him off.

“The Holt’s are great. Don’t worry.” Hunk pulls Pidge away before she can kick Lance in the shins.

“But how are you? Who did you end up getting? Do I know them?” Hunk asks.

“Oh I got…” And Lance turns over his shoulder, looking past celebrities to find Keith just diagonal from him. Hunk follows his eye line to see.

“Oh man you got Keith! Keith!” And Hunk starts to wave. Keith decides that’s his cue to finally approach.

“Hi Hunk,” Keith smiles. Hunk grabs his arm.

“Yo dude, this guy is great!” Hunk points at Keith, like he’s trying to sell him to Lance for a second time.

“You’re so lucky! Keith is like a prodigy!”

“He’s doing alright.” Lance smiles.

“How’s my boy treating you?” Hunk presses Keith into his side and speaks quietly. “Cuz if he’s been messing with you-“

“Hunk! I am a delight!”

“You’re also a pain in the ass!” Hunk quips back.

“He’s fine.” Keith wrestles himself away. “Mr McClain, I don’t mean to push you, but we should keep moving up. Your fans at the end will be disappointed if you have to rush past.”

“Oh yes, thank you, Keith.”

 

Keith moves forward, hoping Lance will follow him. Hunk must think he’s out of earshot.

“Whoa, he calls you Mr McClain?”

“Cute, right?”

Keith smiles.

 

Lance does heed his advice though, and continues to walk down the carpet. Allura and the Holts stay close. He is close to the velvet ropes signing autographs when there is a fresh surge of excitement. Keith flicks his gaze over to the new arrival at the end of the carpet.

 

A tall man emerges, with sharp features in a purple, velvet suit. His silver hair is tied in a high ponytail, but still falls to the middle of his back. He raises a manicured hand and waves.

“Your favourite.” Shiro chuckles through the ear piece.

 _Lotor_. The sight of him makes Keith’s stomach churn.

 

Lotor waves at the crowd and hits his first mark for photos. He begins to move towards the second, when he spies Allura further down the carpet. His eyes widen and he makes his way over to her with long strides.

“Allura!” He calls pleasantly. Allura turns over her shoulder to see him. Her expression swiftly moves from confusion to friendly.

“Lotor, hello. How are you?”

“I’m good, good, better _now_.” He laughs. Lance continues signing autographs, ignoring the other man.

“Hey Keith, watch how close your boy is getting to the ropes.” Thace warns in his ear.

“I’ve got it.” Keith moves closer, just in case.

 

“Anyway, I was wondering if you’d like to sit with me in the theatre?” Lotor asks.

“Dude,” Lance looks up from signing. “She’s literally _my_ date.”

“Oh hey, Lance, I didn’t even see you there.” Lotor smiles coyly. “Is Allura here with you?”

“Yes.” Lance hisses.

“Mmmm I don’t see it. Anyway-“

“Gah!”

 

Suddenly, Lance is yanked forward violently. Someone from the crowd has grabbed his wrist, but just as quickly, the hold on him vanishes. Keith is at his side, his hand swiftly disarming the young girl’s grip on Lance. He pulls him back as Thace rushes forward to keep the crowd at bay. Keith wraps his arm around Lance’s shoulders and holds him protectively.

“Keith!” Shiro shouts in his ear.

“I’ve got him.”

 

“You’re spending too long by the ropes. I need you to hurry inside now. It’s making me nervous.” Keith moves Lance to the centre of the carpet.

“Right. Thanks.” Lance rubs his wrist sheepishly. There’s a red mark on it.

“Lance! Are you ok?” Pidge, Matt and Allura move to his side. Allura looks particularly worried.

“Fine! But for safety let’s go ahead and move in.” He smiles.

 

The group moves into the theatre, abandoning Lotor on the carpet.

 

…

 

Lance and the others are escorted to their seats by venue security. Keith, Shiro and the other bodyguards move to the green room where they have a kitchenette and a small live-feed of the theatre. Venue security takes over from this point onwards. And once everyone is seated in the theatre, there’s a low risk of any kind of incident. Keith of course would prefer to stay directly with his client, but sadly they cannot reserve so many seats for just bodyguards.

 

There’s a kitchenette in the green room. Some guards are making themselves coffee, while others are lounging on the couches. Keith relaxes next to Shiro, who flicks through his phone, when Hunk sits in front of them.

“Hey guys, I made cookies. Do you want some?” Hunk holds out a tupperware container filled with homemade chocolate chip cookies. Keith smiles and takes one. Shiro excitedly takes several.

“Where were you keeping these?”

“I put them in the fridge earlier. Before everyone arrived.” Hunk explains.

“Good foresight like always.” Thace sighs as he walks over and reaches around the back of Hunk’s chair with practiced skill. He snatches a cookie and shoves it in his mouth.

“Mmmm fantastic, Hunk.”

“Thanks!.”

Thace leans on the back of the couch munching happily, when he meets Keith’s gaze.

“How are you doing kiddo? How’s your first real contract?”

“It’s fine.” Keith shrugs. Thace frowns. He comes around to the front of the couch and crashes next to Keith.

“Seriously, how are you doing? I heard you were hesitant to take this.”

“Oh really.” Keith scowls at Shiro, the only other person who would know a detail like that. Shiro purposefully looks away.

“Is it alright?”

“It’s fine. It’s better than I thought. Lance is….” Keith struggles to find the right words. “Rambunctious?”

Shiro and Thace both laugh.

“Is he respectful to you though? Like he treats you right, yeah?”

“Oh he _treats_ him alright.” Shiro smirks. Keith elbows him sharply in the stomach. Thace’s eyebrows crinkle with confusion.

“What does _that_ …?” He chuckles, then his eyes finally land on Keith’s suit. He lets out a low whistle.

“I thought you looked more expensive somehow.” He chuckles. “What is this? Wool?”

“Stop.” Keith tries to wave the other man off.

“Whoa! Shiro have you seen these cufflinks?” Thace snatches Keith’s wrist.

“Nice, right? Allura thought he was a model when she first saw him.”

Trace throws his head back and laughs, but it is soon interrupted by applause coming through the walls of the theatre.

 

“Sounds like the movie’s over. We should go.” Keith ignores the heat in his face as he stands. Shiro and Thace snigger behind him as they walk to collect their clients.

 

…

 

Shiro, Hunk and Keith collect their respective client’s at the exit of the theatre. Lance, Allura, Matt and Pidge are sandwiched protectively between them as they walk outside and to their cars waiting with the valets. Shiro picks up the keys, while Lance opens the door for Allura once more. They breathe a sigh of relief when Shiro makes it onto the highway.

 

The car is eerily silent. Lance continuously adjusts his seat and fidgets with his sleeves. Allura places a reassuring hand on his thigh.

“Lance,” Her voice is soothing. He stops bouncing his leg. “The movie was good. _You_ were good.”

“Yeah?” His voice is uncharacteristically shaky. He chews on his bottom lip.

“Yes. You were great. Don’t worry.” She smiles and squeezes his leg. Lance forces a weak smile, but it vanishes quickly. He stays quiet for the rest of the trip.

 

Shiro drops them off at the front of Lance’s apartment building. Allura and Lance hug goodbye, while Shiro pats Keith on the back.

“It was lovely meeting you, Keith! I hope I get the chance to make a better impression.” Allura calls out her window.

“You don’t have to make up for anything, Miss.” Keith gives a small wave.

 

Shiro pulls away and Keith moves Lance quickly into his building. The ride up the elevator is also conducted in silence. Lance only speaks when they are inside the apartment. His expression is pensive as he removes his jacket and tie.

“Keith, have you ever seen any of my movies?”

“No.” Keith answers quickly.

“Oh.” Lance frowns harder.

“Would you like me to?” Keith offers. He hopes it sounds supportive.

“No.” Lance scowls. “I doubt you’d like them. They’re mostly rom-coms.”

Keith must visibly grimace, because Lance chuckles. He sits on the couch.

“Too girly for you?”

 _Too heterosexual for me_.

“My taste isn’t important.” Keith covers. Lance nods.

 

He resumes scowling as he unties his shoes and kicks them off. He begins untucking his shirt. For some reason, it hurts Keith to see Lance so low. A frown doesn’t suit his soft, pretty features.

 

“I… I like _Look at me_ though.” Keith tries. Lance immediately brightens.

“You listen to my music?”

“It’s impossible to escape it.” Keith shrugs.

“Most people don’t talk about that song much.” Lance looks down with a sad smile. “Not my most successful single.”

“Well it’s my favourite.” Keith smiles. Soft and genuine. Lance finds himself having to look away, like he’s glanced at the sun. His ears turn a soft pink.

“Thank you.”

Keith clears his throat.

“I should be off, Mr McClain.”

“Of course!” Lance abruptly stands. There’s a renewed spring in his step as he walks Keith over to the elevator. Keith is happy to see it.

 

“Will you be here tomorrow morning?”

“It’s my day off, sir.” Keith gently reminds him. “If you need an escort anywhere, my agency will organise one for you.”

“But it won’t be you?” Lance pouts and leans on the wall.

“Do i not deserve a day off?” Keith teases. Lance groans.

“I suppose.”

The elevator doors open with a ding. Keith steps backwards into it.

 

“Goodnight, Keith.” Lance tiredly smiles.

“Goodnight, Mr McClain.”

Keith nods as the doors close.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote almost 12 000 words in two days because I love you and these dorks so much.
> 
> Enjoy!

Keith is a morning person, but he admits that sleeping past 8 am is a nice treat. He’s tightly wrapped up in his blankets, listening to the traffic outside, thankful that he isn’t in it for once. He’s lightly dozing when his phone comes to life with a piercing ring.

 

Keith’s glare could cut glass. He’s about to ignore it, when he notices the name flashing on the screen.

 

_Lance McClain._

 

Keith loudly groans. Didn’t this idiot understand the concept of a DAY OFF??

 

He begrudgingly answers.

“Hello?” He croaks.

“Keeeeeiiiiith,” Lance’s distinctive whine comes through the speakers.

“Yes? Are you ok?”

“Keeeeith,” he whines again. “I wanna go home. I need a break. I grow _weary_ of the Californian life!”

Keith steals himself. It’s easy to imagine Lance throwing himself onto his bed, with his hand over his eyes, like he’s in some Greek tragedy.

 

“Uh, oh, ok…” Keith sits up and rubs his eyes. “If you give me a week I can-“

“I’ve booked the jet in two days time! I’m sending you the itinerary now!” Lance’s voice becomes chipper.

“Pack your bathing suit! I’m looking forward to it, Keith. Gotta go now!”

And there’s a dial tone.

 

Keith stares numbly at his phone. He feels like he’s been spat out by a tornado. With a sigh, he pulls over his laptop and opens his email. He's surprised to see that Lance has already sent him an itinerary, true to his word. He pulls it up and scans through the details. They start out fairly normal.

 

_Arrive at LAX international at 8:00_

_Navigate through immigration and security._

_Escorted to hangar 12 to board Private Jet 14A at 9:30 for 10:00 departure_

_Arrive Jose Marti International Airport, Havana at 16:00_

 

Havana?? Wait… Cuba??

 

Shit.

 

Keith’s fingers hammer on the keyboard at alarming speed. After several nail biting minutes, and negative replies, he is forced to call Lance back.

 

“Yello?”

“Mr McClain!” Keith is standing now. He paces around his bedroom in just his boxers. His bed hair sticks up and out at crazy angles.

 

“I’m trying my best to organise a guard for you that speaks Spanish, but it might take longer than…. a day??” Keith’s stress is obvious. “Is it possible for you to postpone?  
“What? Why do I need a guard who speaks Spanish? _I_ speak Spanish. And i want _you_ to come with me.”

“But sir, it would be much safer if you had someone who spoke the language. I won’t be at my most effective-“

“What? Keith you’re being ridiculous.” Lance huffs. “I’m not going to be doing anything high profile. I’m just going to sit in my house, lay on my private beach, and take a lot of naps.”

Keith blinks.

“Then why do you need me _at all?_ ”

“Because my family’s there, man! I need someone to set up security around the house to make sure no one is being nosy. I don’t want my family under any scrutiny. I’d like them to remain anonymous.” Lance explains. Keith sighs. He feels trapped.

“Let me consult with my boss.”

“Alright.”

 

Keith sits down on the edge of his bed. He stares at Kolivan’s number for seven minutes, until he finally summons the courage to hit the call button.

“Hello,” Kolivan picks up after two rings. Keith swallows.

“Hey, Kolivan? It’s Keith.”

“I know.”

“Uh…. Yeah. Listen, I have a slight problem. Lance McClain has booked a trip for Cuba on very short notice. I’m trying to book one of our guys who can actually speak the language, but none of them are available. Lance says he won’t be doing anything out in public, but I just feel that- wouldn’t it be-?”

“Keith, I’m failing to see the issue here.”

Keith freezes.

“If he doesn’t do anything in public, you should be fine.”

“But-!”

“Pack your bags, son.”

 

Keith tosses his phone to the side.

“Shit.”

 

…

 

Lance and Keith drive out to the airport in just two days time. Keith is still bitter, but he bites his tongue.

 

_It’s my job. It’s my job. It’s my job._ He repeats to himself.

 

He had hoped he would have some time to adjust to Lance and this level of responsibility, before going on an international trip.

 

But Lance is a whirlwind with other plans.

 

They arrive at the airport and pass their luggage to a member of staff, who will load it onto their jet for them. Keith sets a brisk pace through the airport, not wanting to get mobbed outside of a duty-free shop. He keeps his hand on the base of Lance’s back at all times.

“I think you’re just looking for an excuse to touch me.” Lance smirks.

“I think you’re not very good at hiding your identity. Keep your hat to the front.”

Lance pouts as he swivels his snap back back around to the front of his face and pushes up his sunglasses.

 

Although Keith is still professional, Lance smiles at his casual attire. He’s wearing a t-shirt and pair of jeans that Lance had purchased for him. He’s even wearing the pair of loafers Lance had specially picked out for these pants. The outfit makes Keith look younger. Softer.

 

_Nice._ Lance smiles at Keith’s arms, now visible without a jacket.

 

The pair are allowed to pass through security ahead of crowds and given priority access to the immigration counter. The immigration officer wears a surly expression as she flicks open Keith’s passport and eyes his photo.

“Keith Kogane?” She asks. His surname is of course mispronounced. Keith nods. She checks his visa before moving on to Lance’s passports. There’s two of them. She checks the American one first, then opens the Cuban passport.

 

Huh. That explains why Keith didn’t need to organise a visa for Lance.

 

“Lance Maldonado?” She asks. Keith balks at the strange name, but Lance seems to answer to it. He nods.

 

He doesn’t mention the name as the two are shown onto the tarmac and scooted over to their hangar in a cart. They board the luxurious jet and Keith takes it all in. He’s never been on a private jet before. He laughs at the fully stocked bar at the back, but otherwise he’s not too shocked. It resembles a small, but nice apartment, with soft, leather armchairs and built in coffee tables.

 

Lance sits on a chair behind a coffee table, then pops up the foot rest. He sighs. Keith moves towards the back of the plane where he eyes a recliner in the corner.

 

“Whoa, whoa, where are you going?” Lance grabs his arm as he moves past.

“Oh, I thought you’d want to be left to your business.” Keith explains.

“What business? I’m on holiday. Sit, sit, sit.” Lance gestures at the recliner across from him.

“So spoiled.” Keith groans. Lance smirks.

“You know it.”

 

Keith plops in the chair across from Lance. It is very comfortable. He leans back and listens to the hum of the engines starting up. A steward introduces himself and offers them champagne before they begin their taxi to the runway.

 

Keith is surprised at how smooth the take off is and the jets are quiet once they are in the air. It’s only when the jet has levelled out that Keith cocks a curious eyebrow at his client.

 

“Maldonado?”

“Yes.” Lance sighs, seeming to know where this is going.

“So McClain is fake, then?” Keith asks.

“It’s a _stage_ name.” Lance smiles.

“What should I call you then?”

“You should call me _Lance._ ”

“Of course, Mr McClain.” Keith smirks. Lance kicks him lightly in the foot. Keith kicks him back.

 

Lance. Is. Shocked. He kicks back more forcefully with a squawk. Keith retaliates. Soon, their legs are a flurry of swinging feet and painful kicks. Keith can’t believe that this is what his life has become. Playing footsies with _Lance McClain_ on a private jet.

 

Keith lets Lance get the last hit in before he calls it off. Lance whoops victoriously. Keith sighs into a relaxed smile. Something warm stirs in his gut when he sees Lance content and bouncing in his chair.

 

“So why do you have a stage name?”

“Oh Richard! I would love some of that champagne now!” Lance beams. Keith wonders if he heard him.

 

He decides to leave it for the moment.

 

…

 

They arrive in Havana seven hours later. Customs and immigration is uncomfortable for Keith, as Lance takes them through speaking in, what Keith can now safely assume, is his first language. Keith hates how helpless he feels as Lance navigates them expertly around the large airport, guiding them both to the rental car park.

 

Lance tosses their bags in the trunk, while Keith inspects the doors and ignition. His hands are careful as he feels over the vehicle.

“Are you seriously looking for bombs right now?” Lance hisses. Keith scowls.

“It’s standard procedure.”

“Oh my god.”

 

Keith finally starts the vehicle and they begin their drive. He had been surprised when Lance had given him the address, finding that it was not in any of Cuba’s metropolitan centres. Instead, they would be spending a week in a tiny seaside town. A town so small that it did not even have any hotels.

 

The car rolls over hills and around coastal cliffs until the small village is visible. White washed fences and sand dunes spill into the town of brightly coloured buildings. Even brighter clothing hangs out on numerous laundry lines that whip in the wind and dot the landscape. They pass children riding on bikes, weaving through parked vintage cars.

 

Keith follows the GPS through the town and into a quiet property, sheltered by trees and away from the noise. They roll to a stop at a rickety gate.

“I got it!” Lance hops out and flicks open the latch. He walks the gate completely open, until Keith is sure the car will fit through. Lance bows with a flourish, pointing the way like some grand butler.

 

Keith ignores him as he rolls past.

 

Lance closes the gate and climbs back in the passenger seat.

“Did you like the grand entrance I gave you?” He beams.

“I was disappointed there was no confetti.” Keith states. Lance laughs openly.

“I _will_ get you to enjoy this trip, Keith Kogane. Mark my words.”

 

They continue up the gravel path until the trees part. There is the unmistakable sound of waves and the smell of salt in the air. A large house sits on top of a rolling hill. Lance immediately lights up.

“There!”

“I got it.”

 

Keith gets as close to the house as he can before the gravel runs out. He opens the car door, ready to get out, when he has to abruptly lift his foot to stop himself from stepping on a chicken.

“What the-!”

“Watch yourself.” Lance laughs. He moves to the back of the car and pulls out their bags. Keith manages to dodge the chicken and moves next to him to help.

“So is this just your place or-?”

 

“Mi bebé!” A shrill voice cuts through the afternoon air. There is the sound of a screen door slamming shut, and hurried footsteps on the porch.

An older woman, stocky with a plump build, comes running across the driveway. Her dark, brown curls are just dusted with grey, and there’s a stained apron around her waist. He bare feet run confidently over the rocks and brush.

“Mi vida! Mi precioso niño!” She grabs Lance’s cheeks firmly and kisses him many times. She emphasises each one with a loud smack. Her tan cheeks are stretched in a huge grin.

“Hay mi niño lindo como creció, se convirtió en este hombre tan guapo” She coos.

“Mama, please…” Lance tries to wrestle out of her grip.

“¿Porque no me dijiste que venías?” Her tone suddenly turns stern and she smacks Lance’s arm with the back of her hand.

“Ow! Mama!’

“Porque no llamaste? No es tan difícil!” And she hits him again. Keith hides his smirk behind his hand. He quickly decides that he _adores_ this woman.

 

The screen door slams again and Keith moves his gaze up to the porch. An elderly woman, with a shaky frame and eyes hidden by sagging, dark skin, shuffles her way onto the porch. She raises a slim hand with crooked fingers to wave.

“Ah bien, ahora despertaste a la abuelita” The woman next to Lance tuts. She gets close to his face and waggles a stern finger. “Va a estar insoportable todo el día, porque me tienes que hacer la vida más dificil? Por eso hay que llamar. Oh pero estas tan guapo mijo” She ends her statement with soft words and rubs her thumbs over Lance’s cheeks. Keith is very confused, but Lance smiles softly.

 

More bodies pour from the house now. Two young men, both with the same complexion and sharp chin as Lance. There’s an infant strapped to one’s chest and a toddler around the ankles of another. A young woman pokes her head in between them. She’s much shorter, but just as strong as she forces her way through.

“Lance!” She shouts and vaults over the porch railing.

“Veronica!’ Lance calls back. They hug in a tangle of giggles and squeals. Two more young women appear at the door, along with even more children.

 

Keith stands motionless and barely breathing as the parade of people tumble onto the driveway. They each coo in Spanish and grab onto Lance with smiles and hugs. Children are lifted up up to wrap their small arms around his neck, and he takes one on his hip.

 

Lance finally remembers himself and turns towards Keith. He grabs him by the wrist, tugging him into the sea of people.

“Keith,” He sounds breathless. “This is my family.” He beams.

Keith silently waves.

“Uh this is my brother Marco, his wife Melissa, my _other_ brother Luis, and his wife Aleja, this is my sister Veronica. She has no significant other because she is ugly and bitter, uh…”

Lance laughs as his sister gasps and punches him.

“And these are my nieces and nephews, Miguel, Daniel, Teresa and Joel. That’s my grandma!” He points at the old lady, still leaning on the porch railing. She gives a sombre nod. Keith’s gaze moves rapidly as each person is introduced to him. His brain is assaulted with faces and names, scrambling to keep up.

“And this…” Lance slows his speech dramatically. He hands a toddler, Keith forgets which one, back to his brother, and places a hand on the first woman’s shoulder. He pulls her tightly against his side.

“-Is my mother, Maria.”

She softly pats his chest.

“Everyone, this is Keith! And he will be staying with us for this week. Please don’t speak Spanish to him. He has no idea what any of you are saying.”

Everyone laughs. Keith nervously chuckles. His arms are stiff at his side.

“Keith, welcome to our home. Thank you for bringing my son back to me.” Maria steps forward. She claps Keith on the cheeks and forcibly kisses both of them. She gives him tight squeeze, before releasing him. Keith stumbles in shock.

“Uh, uh no problem.” He squeaks.

 

Maria steps back next to Lance and mumbles conspiratorially in his ear.

“Amor tu amigo esta lindo, ya le preguntaste si tiene novia?” She smirks.

“Mamá no empieces” Lance hisses.

 

Keith can’t help but feel that they are talking about him.

 

But for some reason, this small interaction opens the flood gates. Keith now finds his skinny body being passed from one relative to the next, assaulted by hugs and hair tousles. Marco claps him on the biceps and laughs loudly.

“Este tipo es fuerte! Te apuesto que te puede destrozar en una pelea.”

“Marco, I’ll kick your ass, I swear to god.” Lance responds. Keith stares dumbly between the two.

 

Keith feels himself being pulled towards the house, like a leaf trapped in a raging river. Lance keeps a steady hold on his shoulders so he won’t drown.

“So how do you know my brother, Keith?” Veronica sidles up next to him. She seems to be the most sympathetic to his situation. Keith shakes his head, looking flustered and panicked.

“I’m just his bodyguard!’ He whispers.

She laughs quietly. Her look is pitying.

“Well, welcome to the family anyway.”

 

…

 

Keith finally peels himself away from the family, after Maria had given him a tour of the house of course, to get some work done.

 

He unpacks his equipment and begins to install cameras and alarms around the property, dodging chickens as he goes. As he moves towards the back of the property, he discovers numerous sheds and fenced off areas. He’s securing a camera to the top of the chicken coop, when his ladder is knocked over.

“What-?” He looks down at the ground. His eyes narrow at the intruder.

“Are you kidding me?”

 

A squat, black pig forages in the undergrowth, nosing at decomposing vegetables that had been tossed to the chickens. Keith groans.

“If I hop down… please don’t chase me.” Keith tries to reason with it.

 

The academy did not train him to deal with this.

 

He finishes securing the perimeter of the property, then begins the task of installing cameras around the porch. He’s balanced on a railing, zip tying a camera, when a shrill voice sings out.

“¿Qué estás haciendo?” He looks down to see a couple of children. Tracey? Jacob? Joseph? God he doesn’t remember.

 

“I… I don’t know what you’re saying.” He sighs. “I’m very sorry.”

“What are you doing?” The oldest girl yells out.

“Oh uh,” Keith stammers. “I’m uh… I’m putting up some cameras.”  
“Why?”

“So I can see if anyone bad comes to this house.”

“Why would any bad people come to the house?” She asks again.

“Oh uh… I don’t know. It’s just in case. It’s just for safety.” Keith tries to explain. His fingers fumble with wires.

“We’re safe here. M-my tío once hit a snake with a shovel! A-and there was guts everywhere-!”

“OK Kids!” And from inside the house, Lance miraculously appears. He effortlessly takes each of the kids under his arms and picks them up. He begins to spin around on the spot.

“Brrrrrrr! Helicopter Lance!” He shouts. Both children squeal and kick their feet in delight.

“We should leave Keith to his work. Do you guys wanna race Mr. Bacon? He’s super fast.” Lance starts to carry the two down the steps to affirmative cries of “yes!” and “ok!”. He looks up and locks eyes with Keith.

 

Keith mouths a ‘Thank you.’. Lance smiles brightly against the sunset.

‘Of course.’ He mouths and nods in reply.

 

Keith tries to finish the work quickly, but finds himself easily distracted. Lance runs through the rough grass, barefoot, in an old pair of shorts and a stained singlet. He chases the small group of children who have now turned their attention on the three small pigs in the yard. They are trying to corral them back into their enclosure for the night, but the pigs are surprisingly quick.

 

“Miguel! Ve a la izquierda!” Lance laughs. The three year old cuts through the yard, but misses the pig by a mile. In the warm air, Lance’s skin starts to shine. He combs his hair back, where it stays, slick with sweat. His long legs carry him across the yard in elegant strides. He reminds Keith of a dancer. There’s a grace in how he runs, even as he’s diving towards a pig and rolling through the dirt. He sits up with a whoop and hauls his prize into his lap.

“Got one!” He cries. The kids zoom towards him.

“You have to pet him softly. See? Can you feel his-JOEL! Don’t slap!”

He begins to guide their hands, holding them so they apply the right amount of pressure as they pet the pig. There’s strands of grass in his hair and dirt on his million dollar face.

“There that’s it. Ok now we’re going to gently put him in his pen so he can-JOEL! What did I say before?!”

 

Keith chuckles to himself.

“This job is taking a while.” A voice calls from just below him. Keith starts and drops his pliers.

“Shit,” He hisses. Veronica bends over to pick his them off the floor. She hands the pliers back to Keith.

“Enjoying the view?”

Keith sighs. He looks out over the property, trees gently rustling in the wind and waves visible over the crest slowly tumble into shore.

“It’s a really beautiful place. ” He smiles.

“He sure is.” Veronica smirks. She walks off before Keith has the chance to respond.

 

…

 

“Hey!” Lance barges into Keith’s room just as he’s finished tuning a monitor into his numerous cameras. He switches between feeds, testing that each of his cameras is working.

“You smell like pig.” Keith wrinkles his nose.

“Shut up, I smell great.” Lance takes the remote out of Keith’s hands and sets it down.

“C’mon stop working.”

“I can’t really do that.” Keith smirks.

“Well ok then. You now have to escort me down to my beach and keep me and my family safe while we eat dinner.” He takes Keith’s hands and pulls him off of the bed. Keith rolls his eyes.

“You could have just said that dinner was ready.”

“Yeah, but I kind of like bossing you around.” Lance elbows his side.

“Brat.” Keith pushes him off, but there’s a playfulness in his movements. Lance beams and takes his wrist.

“C’mon.”

 

Lance leads him past the chicken coop and pig pens, down the slope of the loose dunes, and onto the flat of the beach. Keith is suddenly hit by a wave of heat from a bonfire that the family has gathered around. Lance’s brothers keep a tight hold of their children, while their wives set up plates of food on a fold up table. Lance’s grandmother sits in front of it, looking out into the ocean.

 

“Mama, you didn’t have to set this all up for me.” Lance kisses the top of his mother’s head. She waves him off.

“Of course I did. It’s not every day that my baby comes home. Come, come, you are so skinny. What are they feeding you in California?” She pulls him over to the table and begins to load up a plate. His brothers laugh behind him.

 

Keith eyes the table curiously. There’s a large dish of black beans and rice, and what looks like some kind of rich stewed pork dish. But the rest? It all smells wonderful, but Keith isn’t sure what it is.

 

“Keith! Try the fried plantains. Maria makes them better than anyone on the island.” Luis’ wife kindly hands Keith a plate with a smile.

“Oh Keith!” Maria immediately loses all interest in her own son and hones in on Keith, standing like a deer in headlights in front of the small feast.

“Yes, yes. Let's get you lots of food! You and my son both need to eat more. You at least have some muscle, but I want you leaving Cuba full and happy.”

She loads up Keith’s plant with a worrisome amount of food.

“Hey make sure you let Keith try the yuca con mojo” Luis pops up on Keith’s left.

“Oh and make sure he gets plenty of the empanadas!” Marco chimes in on Keith’s right.

“Of course, of course.” Maria smiles and nods. She adds the suggested foods to Keith’s mountain.

“You guys are evil.” Lance glares at his brothers, who fail at surpressing their laughter as Keith is handed his pile of food.

 

Keith swallows. Lance guides him over to the bon fire, where there are some upturned milk crates for them to sit on.

“Put a towel on it, otherwise your butt will go numb.” Luis dresses a seat for Keith before he sits down.

“Thanks.” Keith sits.

 

“Now or never.” Lance raises a sticky plantain in his fingers. Keith quietly chuckles. He mimics the gesture, and taps Lance’s plantain with his own in a toast. He bravely pops the sticky treat into his mouth whole and chews.

 

It is deliciously sweet. Like toffee or caramel it sticks to his teeth. Keith’s eyes light up and his stomach growls loudly. He hasn’t eaten, except for some light airline food in the jet much earlier in the day. The smell of garlic, cumin and pepper floods his nostrils and is mouth fills with saliva.

 

Keith doesn’t hold back as he tucks into his plate. He hums appreciatively at how tender the pork meat is and enjoys the freshness of an accompanying salad. He tears through two empanadas and is just picking at the last of his beans and rice when Marco looks over.

“Holy shit, did you eat all that?” He stares in shock.

“Uh… Yeah?” Keith shrugs with his mouth full.

“Damn.” Veronica gawks. Keith wipes his mouth self consciously.

“I’m getting a soda. Keith, do you want one?” Lance stands.

“Uh yes please?”

 

Lance leaves and Keith feels himself become more awkward. Not quite sure of how he fits in with this family or the polite level of social interaction. He picks at his rice and feels eyes still on him.

“Uh s-so…” He starts. “Did you guys grow up here?”

“In this village or in this house?” Marco laughs. “We’ve always lived in this village, but our childhood home was torn down a few years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It was a dump.” Veronica leans forward. She smiles widely. “Lance bought this place before that happened though. Mama always wanted a big house that everyone could stay in and visit always.” She shrugs.

“And abuelita loves the beach.” She sighs. Keith follows her line of sight to their grandmother. She’s still sitting on a small stool, smiling out at the ocean. The last of the dying sun’s rays slip into the water. Maria wraps a blanket around her shoulders and hands her a steaming, hot mug.

 

“That was nice of him.” Keith speaks quietly.

“Of course. Successful sons should always look after their family.” Luis shrugs. “Speaking of which, what have you ever given this family, Marco?” He kicks his brother off of his seat.

“Piss off!’ Marco smacks his foot. “I fixed your plumbing just last week.”

“Yeah because you broke it in the first place.”

“I did not! You’re such a cheap old man.” The two brothers laugh.

 

Keith’s stomach feels full and warm.

 

…

 

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” Lance stands in the doorway of Keith’s room.

“Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to ask _you_ that?” Keith smirks. He begins to pull some sleep clothes out of his suitcase.

“Not when you’re in my home.”

“I’m in your home in California all the time.” Keith scoffs.

“Well…” Lance sighs. He gives Keith a sad smile. “Things are different here.”

Keith swallows. Lance’s words feel heavy somehow.

 

“I promise I have everything I need Mr McClain.” He nods. Lance hums. His eyes are downcast.

“Alright, goodnight Keith.”

“Sleep well, sir.”

Lance closes the door quietly behind him.

 

Keith falls back on the bed and lets out a deep breath.

_What am I doing here?_

 

…

 

Even though this trip may _feel_ like a holiday, it most certainly is not for Keith. He is working. Even if he is in a beautiful place with a beach and excellent food.

 

His alarm goes off at 6am, just like it would if he were still back in California. He throws on a pair of shorts and ties his hair up in a ponytail. He slips his feet into his sneakers and tip toes out of the house.

 

He creeps past the chickens that are still roosting, and around the pig pens. When he reaches the dunes he springs into a jog. Keith runs down the beach, enjoying the cool morning air. The compacted sand is soft on his joints and the push and pull of the waves is relaxing, even when his muscles start to burn. Salt gathers on his cheeks. He runs past the property’s border, to the cliffs on the horizon, and back. He’s worked up a good sweat when the property’s fence comes back into view. The sky is now a soft blue with hints of bright yellow. It is going to be a clear day.

 

Keith stares out at the sea, admiring how the water reflects the colour of the sky, when he spots something dark. He slows and stops. His feet sink into the wet sand. He raises his hand to block out the glare of the sun and stare out into the waves.

 

A tan figure cuts through the waves on a surfboard. He expertly twists his body to manoeuvre through the water, abs twitching with the effort of keeping his balance. His lean arms are out as his sides, while he cruises along the crest of a wave. Lance. Keith would recognise those legs anywhere.

 

Lance lifts his gaze and locks eyes with Keith, cross-armed and disapproving on the beach.

“Keith!” Lance jumps up and waves. His board dips forward and he’s sent cartwheeling into the water. Keith winces, but he doesn’t worry for long. Lance is soon up and bobbing in the surf. He spits out a stream of water, then rolls onto his board. His arms cut through the water as he paddles to shore, before he confidently hops up to ride the last wave into the sand.

“Keith!” He slips the cuff off of his ankle.

“You’re supposed to inform me if you’re leaving the house. You shouldn’t be out here alone.” Keith lectures. Lance's smile falters.

“I’m on my private beach! No one knows I’m here. It’s fine.”

“Mmmm” Keith pouts. “Still.”

“Well _you’re_ here now.” Lance wickedly grins. “Come surfing with me.” He grabs Keith’s hands and tries to tug him into the water. Keith digs his heels into the sand.

“I’m not dressed for it.” He protests.

“Just strip to your underwear.” Lance grabs the hem of his shirt.

“Oh my god!” Keith twists out of his hold. Lance giggles and tries to keep his grip.

“Just because _you’re_ an exhibitionist.” Keith retaliates by pinching Lance’s hip. He squawks and hops away.

“I’m in a swim suit!”

“Barely.” Keith casts a judgemental look over Lance’s body. He’s in nothing but a very small pair of tiny and tight jammers. They stop at mid-thigh and sit low on his hips. His beautifully long legs are on full display, as well as the delicate grooves of his abs and hips.

“Just admit I look good.” Lance grins. Keith huffs.

“I’m heading back.

“Ok, alright, I’ll come with you. Hang on.”

Lance gathers up his board.

“Shall we?”

 

Keith moves in front of Lance, navigating over the dunes with shaky legs. He hears Lance chuckle behind him. A wet hand moves over the back of his neck.

“This is super cute.” Lance gently brushes his fingers against Keith’s ponytail. Keith hops away from the cold touch.

“Ugh, you’re all wet.” He groans. He hopes Lance misses the blush on his cheeks.

 

They walk through the yard, but Lance stops them when they reach the chicken coop. Most of the chickens are now awake and scratching through the grass.

“Hey wait, help me collect eggs.” Lance opens the rickety door to the coop and steps in. Keith follows.

 

He ducks underneath perches and follows Lance to the roosting boxes. He opens their lids and starts to pull out several eggs.

“Hold out your hands.” He instructs. Keith does as he’s told. Lance places the eggs in his hands. They’re still warm.

 

Lance checks the rest of the boxes, shooing out several chickens who are still sleeping.

“Excuse me ladies. Time to start your day.” He gathers more eggs until he opens the final roosting box. There’s a chicken still sitting in it. Lance tries to push her out, but she squawks and bites at his hand.

“Ack! Gertrude you clucky bitch! Give me your eggs!” He shouts. But Gertrude just pecks harder. He slams the lid on the chicken, then turns to walk out of the coop.

“We’re just leaving that one?” Keith asks.

“Yup!” Lance stomps out of the coop. “I’ll tell Luis he needs to deal with her.”

 

Keith softly chuckles.

“Bested by a chicken.” He murmurs.

“Don’t you start.” Lance shoves him in the shoulder.

“Lance! No, no, no the eggs!” Keith scrambles to not drop any.

 

But Lance doesn’t move to help. He just smiles at Keith with a thousand butterflies in his stomach.

 

Keith called him _Lance._

 

…

 

“That’s a look.” Keith smirks as Lance slides an apron on over his swim suit. Sunlight streams through the kitchen window, making his damp skin shine.

“I call it the slutty housewife.” Lance shimmies his bare shoulders. Keith snorts.

 

Lance pulls out milk, bread and bacon. He starts to break eggs into a bowl and whisks.

“Can I help?” Keith offers. Lance pulls out a fry pan.

“You can fry some eggs if you want. My whole family likes the yolks runny.”

“Ah…” Keith takes the pan. “Ok.”

 

He places the pan on the heat and waits. Next to him, Lance adds milk and vanilla extract to his eggs. He starts to dunk bread in the mixture, then slaps it on his own hot pan. Keith watches with interest.

“What are you making?”

“French toast?” Lance seems skeptical.

“Oh.”

 

When Keith’s pan is hot, he breaks an egg into it. It sizzles and cooks quickly. He nervously reaches for a spatula and attempts to pick it up.

 

It sticks.

 

He tries to scrape underneath it, and the yolk bursts. The pan is a yellow charring mess. He scrapes the bottom harder.

“Did you not spray the pan?” Lance looks over from where he expertly flips a piece of french toast.

“Did I not what?” Keith asks. His eyebrows are crinkled in frustration.

“Spray the pan with non-stick spray?”

Keith looks at the pan blankly. Smoke starts to rise.

“Do you have to do that?”

“Oh my god!” Lance throws his hands in the air before he snatches his spatula out of Keith’s hand. “Come here.”

 

Lance places his hand on the small of Keith’s back and pushes him towards the table. He pulls out a chair and forces Keith to sit down.

“You just sit here and look pretty.” He pats Keith’s cheek and winks. “I’ll take care of everything.”

Keith looks sheepish. He sinks into his chair and crosses his arms. Lance laughs. He throws the disgraced pan in the sink and pulls out a fresh one.

 

“Do you not do much cooking?” Lance flips another piece of french toast and adds it to the pile.

“No.” Keith is quiet. “No one really taught me. And I didn’t have time to learn.”

“Well remind me to teach you some things. Lesson 1: Always spray pans and pots with non-stick cooking spray.” Lance holds up the spray and laughs. Keith smiles.

“Lesson learned.”

 

…

 

Lance makes enough breakfast for the whole family, and eventually he does let Keith hold a spatula and help. He puts him in charge of bacon, letting him know when to flip and and when it is safe to eat.

 

“You boys have completely emptied my fridge,” Maria sighs.

“Hey, we all know that Veronica eats way more than us.” Marco laughs.

Veronica glares over her mountain of bacon.

“I’ll have to go to the market again today.” Maria takes off her apron and begins to stand. Lance rushes to taker her plate.

“Keith and I can do that for you, mama.” Lance offers.

“Wha?” Keith murmurs around a mouthful of toast and syrup.

“Oh you wouldn’t mind?” Maria looks between the two boys.

“No, no. I wanted to show Keith around town anyway.”

“Uh L-Sir? You shouldn’t-“

“It would really be such a huge help. I have a lot of things I need to around here.”

“Of course we’ll help out. Right, Keith?”

And Keith is left to just smile and nod.

 

How can he refuse?

 

…

 

Keith showers and starts to get changed. He’s just finished tying his tie when Lance walks in. He knocks on the door twice to announce his entrance.

“Hey man, you ready to…” He stops. His eyes move over Keith’s trousers, white collared shirt, tie, and the jacket ready on his bed.

“Are you wearing a suit?” He guffaws.

“It’s… Yeah, it’s my uniform.”

“Oh my god. Get fucking changed right now. You are _not_ wearing a suit in Cuba.” Lance hisses. He’s closed the door behind himself.

“Why not?” Keith asks innocently.

“Because people will think you’re a drug dealer! No. Put on a t-shirt and some shorts. Just like swim trunks or board shorts or something.”

“I didn’t bring any swim trunks. I have some cargo shorts?” Keith shrugs.

Lance stares at Keith with his eyes narrowed and his eyebrows crinkled in confusion. He holds this expression for five whole seconds, until he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah fine. Wear your cargo shorts.” He exhales.

 

…

 

Keith does admit that he is much more comfortable walking around the village in casual clothes. The air is warm and humid, and he dreads to think of what that would feel like underneath layers of heavy clothing. He keeps Lance close, uneasy about how they are just freely walking through a foreign place, with no planning and Keith feeling blind and useless.

 

Several people stop and stare as they walk past, but instead of coming up and talking, they just smile and wave. Several of them yell out and Lance laughs and yells something back.They then continue on with their day. No one asks him to sign anything, or mobs him with questions. Lance walks easy, his hands buried deep in his pockets.

 

They enter the market and Lance hands Keith a canvas bag to collect everything in. He takes them around to colourful stalls and points out local ingredients that Keith might not recognise. He hands him vibrant orange pouches of spices and clusters of herbs.

“Do you know what that is?” Lance points at a brown, root vegetable with a white flesh.

“Uh? Some kind of potato?”

“That’s cassava. You ate some last night.” Lance laughs. “Do you remember?”

“I just know everything tasted good.” Keith shrugs. He takes three of the roots that Lance passes to him.

 

They pick up tomatoes, garlic, chilis, and beans. Several cucumbers and onions are tossed into Keith’s bag. Two gallons of milk and a hunk of hard cheese are next on the list. Their final destination is the butcher.

 

The butcher has a permanent inside location, and it is filled with the electric hum of refrigerators and freezers. Keith presses his face to the glass of the display. There is an impressive variety of cuts, pink and gleaming in the sunlight. He salivates over marbled steaks and spicy looking sausages.

 

“Lance? Little Lance Maldonado?” A female voice asks.

Lance and Keith turn to see an older lady, likely in her late 50s or 60s, standing in the doorway. Her fine hair is pulled up into a bun and small glasses perch on her nose.

“Mrs Alvarez!” Lance cries. He happily skips over to the woman and gives her a light hug.

“Keith, Keith!” Lance eagerly waves him over. “This is Mrs Alvarez, my old english teacher.”

“Nice to meet you.” Keith shakes her hand with a polite smile. She nods.

“You’d hardly think he would need a teacher. He sounds like he’s been speaking it his whole life! No accent at all!” She preens and pats Lance’s face.

“Ah well thanks to you and mama.” Lance blushes.

“You sound so good when I see you at the movie theatre. We’re so excited for your new movie. I see every one!” She praises and thumps Lance on the chest.

“Oh well thank you, thank you. That really means a lot.” Lance bites his lower lip in embarrassment.

“Lance, there’s no uh…” Mrs Alvarez drops her voice to a low whisper. “There’s no raunchy scenes with you in this new movie are there?”

“What? No.” Lance gasps.

“Cuz I don’t want to be watching this movie with my husband and suddenly little Lance Maldonado is whipping out his little pinga.”

“Oh my-No! No it’s fine. There’s nothing like that.” Lance hisses. Keith has to bite his tongue from combusting on the spot with laughter. Lance glares at him.

“Oh good! I’m so looking forward to it then.” Mrs Alvarez collects her bag of meat and hands over her pesos.

“Tell your mother I said hi! And a big kiss to your abuelita, she’s such a sweet woman.”

“Will do.” Lance smiles. He watches Mrs Alvarez leave with a fond smile.

 

Lance orders a kilogram of sausages, a pork roast and several ox tails. He swings his bags back and forth as he walks out of the store. He hums just under his breath.

“Sooooo,” Keith smirks. “Do you think you’ll ever take your little pinga out in a movie?”

“Shut up.” Lance bumps their shoulders, knocking Keith off balance. He laughs and stumbles to the side.

 

They amble along the sidewalk, now baking in the midday sun. Lance continues to greet people he seems to know and thumbs through several racks of discount clothing that sit outside of their stores on display. He holds a bright Hawaiian style shirt against Keith’s chest.

“Think I should buy you this? Get some colour in your wardrobe.” He smirks.

“It doesn’t suit my complexion.” Keith deadpans.

Lance snorts. He walks past more racks of sarongs and singlets until he pauses at a shelf of swim trunks.

“Hold these.” He thrusts all of his bags onto Keith, who struggles to catch them.

 

Lance tears through the pairs of shorts. He sticks his tongue out in concentration.

“Aha!” He pulls out a pair of red trunks with a white trim, then hops over to the small service table. He pays the owner, then jogs back to Keith, holding them out in front of him.

“These are for you.” He exchanges the trunks with Keith and takes back his bags. “You can’t visit Cuba without a swim suit.” He shakes his head with disbelief.

“I’m working. I shouldn’t be swimming.”

“Uh huh.”

“But…” Keith tucks the bright red shorts into his bag, next to a bushel of coriander. “Thank you… sir.”

Lance steps closer. He thumps their shoulders together, more gently this time.

“No problem, man.” His voice is low and soft.

 

They continue their walk up the sidewalk and Keith sees their vehicle come into view again. It’s parked at the side of a gravel road, across from a small park. Next to the park is a large, white building, probably the largest and newest in the whole town, with smaller buildings behind it. They look like demountables, plain and worn, with a Cuban flag flying on a pole in the centre of the complex. On the grass, in front of the largest building, is a slide and a set of swings. To the side of it is a sand pit, set of monkey bars and a small climbing wall.

 

“That’s the school I went to.” Lance nods towards the collection of buildings. “Lot of good memories there.” He sighs wistfully.

As they get closer to the school, Keith can see a sign hanging over the entrance to the largest building. It stands proudly in dark blue against the white building.

 

_Maldonado Hall_

 

Keith chuckles.

“Did you buy them that building or something?”

Lance only smiles.

 

…

 

They arrive back at Lance’s house and begin to unpack the groceries. Keith and Lance dutifully follow Maria’s directions as she points to where she wants things to go.

“Fridge! In the vegetable crisper.” “That goes on the top shelf” “Cupboard above the sink” “Fridge, second shelf-NOT at the back, Lance! If it freezes, it’s ruined!”

 

Keith breathes out a satisfied sigh when everything is put away. Maria pats him on the shoulder.

“Thank you dear. You’re very helpful.”

Keith beams. He feels lighter somehow. Comfortable.

Lance sneaks behind him and places his hands on his shoulders. He speaks quietly next to his ear.

“Are you finally having a good time?”

“I’m not having a _bad_ time.” Keith smiles, relenting just enough to make Lance chuckle. He squeezes Keith’s shoulders again.

“I wish we could-“

 

_BEEEEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP!_

 

Keith is knocked out of his euphoria. His muscles tense and he’s grappling in his pockets for his phone.

“¡Qué mierda!” Veronica comes screeching into the kitchen.

“I’m on it!” Keith pinpoints which alarm is going off on his phone. It’s the rear of the house, on the periphery fence. He takes off in a dead sprint, careening through the screen door.

 

He turns the alarm off, so that it’s no longer blaring, but continues his way to the fence. His phone is poised in his hand, ready to call the authorities on the trespasser. His eyes are trained on the tree line. He wonders if the intruder has taken off or is just lying in wait, hoping to snag photos of Lance in the yard, or maybe even lounging on the beach.

 

_Lance enjoys sexy romp on private Cuban beach!_ Keith can see the magazine cover now.

 

He reaches the sensor that was triggered and comes to a halt. He spins on his heel, but can’t see who triggered it. He checks his wiring. It doesn’t look faulty.

 

In the dying light, Keith squints into the dense trees. He thinks about jumping the fence and heading into the forest, just to be safe.

 

_scuffle scuffle scuffle_

 

Keith looks down at his feet, at the source of the noise.

 

…

 

A high pitched scream pierces through the air. Lance, Luis and Veronica all jump with a start. Veronica is the first out the door, feet thumping on the hard ground towards the screech. Lance ignores the way sharp rocks poke at his bare feet, and scowls at how Luis overtakes him.

 

They are breathing heavily when they find Keith. He’s on the ground and scrambling backwards on all fours.

“Rat! Rat! Giant rat!” He shouts and pushes himself to his feet. Sure enough, there is a large mammal in front of him, covered in brown fur, with small ears. It’s long tail drags behind it as it scuttles through the brush.

 

Lance and Luis fall to the ground laughing. Veronica shakes her head. She walks forward and helps Keith to steady himself. She rubs between his shoulders.

“It’s fine, Keith. It’s just a hutia.”

“A what?” He turns to her, eyes still blazing.

“A hutia. They’re all over Cuba. Think of them as like… a giant tree guinea pig?” She suggests.

 

By this point Lance and Luis are almost blue in the face. They roll around on the ground with silent howls erupting from their bodies.

“Rat! Rat! Giant rat!” Luis mimics Keith’s cries. This sends Lance reeling once again. His chest heaves painfully. Keith glares at him.

 

“I’ve gotta recalibrate my alarms now.” He marches back towards the house. He is sure to kick a mound of dirt on Lance as he walks past. Lance inhales it with his laughter and immediately begins choking.

“Serves you right.” Veronica glares down at her hacking brother.

 

…

 

Despite the scare with wild animals setting off alarms, the rest of the week goes by in a lazy haze. Keith does eventually learn to relax and he spends his days in a hammock, swaying gently in the warm breeze. Often Veronica will join him and he’ll tell her about his city life in America, and she’ll explain some part of Cuban life. They talk about movies and music.

 

Lance always sees these conversations and has to intrude. He climbs in the hammock on top of Keith, sweaty from playing soccer with his nieces and nephews, and only laughs harder when Keith complains about how gross he feels.

“Ugh! You’re so hot!”

“Thank you, Keith. I knew you were looking.”

“God, you’re an ass.” Keith sighs and accepts his fate as Lance collapses on top of him with a dopey smile.

Veronica has to leave before she says something that gets her in trouble.

 

Lance teaches Keith how to clean a chicken coop and catch a pig. He shows him how to properly fry an egg, and Keith watches with great interest as Maria explains how she prepares the cassava. He takes notes.

 

Keith tries to keep his distance, remain professional, but he finds himself drawn in deeper every day. He shows Luis how to throw a knife and Lance begs him to teach him as well. Keith helps Marco repair the roof of the tool shed, and is swept into an impromptu dance lesson one night when Marco’s and Luis’ wives find out he has no idea how to mambo. He blushes bright crimson for the rest of the evening as they man handle him and force his hands on their hips.

“You’re so much more graceful than my husband.” Melissa says loudly with a grin. She winks over at Marco who laughs.

“You better watch yourself, Keith,” He warns.

“And so much more handsome than mine. Lance can I borrow your bodyguard to take me to dinner?” Aleja cuts in to the dance and pulls Keith close to herself.

“Why Aleja? Why do you have to hurt me like this?” Luis clutches at his heart.

 

Keith is in hell.

 

Or at least… he should be. Despite his awkwardness, he loves how Lance’s family laughs together. There’s always a smile on everyone’s face and a song to their words. Keith has never been a fan of being touched, but he doesn’t mind it so much when Veronica pats his shoulder, or Maria wraps him in to a tight hug and kisses his temple.

 

…

 

It’s night, after dinner, when most of the Maldonado family have retreated back to their rooms or are relaxing in front of the tv. Keith has left the house though, and walks along the beach. His bare toes dig into the wet sand and his listens to the gentle movement of the waves. The skin on his bare arms rises into goosebumps as the cool night wind whips past. He tucks his hair behind his ears and stares out at the ocean. The water sparkles under the stars.

 

“I thought I’d find you here.” Lance walks onto the sand. His hands are sunk in his pockets and he joins Keith at the water’s edge.

“I’m securing the perimeter.”

“Uh huh…” Lance knowingly smiles.

 

They watch the hypnotic push and pull of the waves in silence. Keith dips his toe into the water and drags it through. Lance lightly splashes him.

“So tomorrow is our last day. Are you finally going to come surfing with me?”

“How do I get you to stop asking me that?”

“Easy. Come surfing with me. Then I’ll stop.”

Keith shakes his head and begins to walk away. But there is a smile on his lips. Lance jogs to catch up. He wraps an arm around Keith’s shouldersand holds him close, feeling the heat between their bodies.

 

“Lance,” Keith starts. The sound of his first name sends a thrum of excitement through Lance’s body. His breath slightly catches. They stop walking.

“Why did you bring me here?” Keith turns his face up to look into Lance’s. His large, dark eyes reflect the sky. Lance’s jaw goes slack.

“You clearly don’t need me. There’s no risk here.”

Lance gathers himself and smiles.

“You seemed like you could use a break. Did you have fun?”

Keith hums. He steps out of Lance’s hold and kicks at a shell beneath his feet.

“I guess.”

Lance grabs his hands and pulls him towards the water. There’s an innocent plea in his voice.

“Come surfing with me and it’ll be better.”

“Forget it.” Keith scoffs. He runs off and Lance chases him. He stops to throw clumps of dirt at the taller man, who laughs and shrieks as one hits him in the chest.

 

…

 

“Keith? Keeeeeeiiiiiith~”

Keith opens his heavy eyes. He’s warm underneath his blankets and his room is dark.

“Keeeeeith~ Wake up. Come to the beach with me.” Lance’s bleary form comes into focus. He’s hovering over Keith in just his swimsuit.

“Mr… Lance?” Keith is groggy, but sits up. Lance chuckles.

“Yeah. C’mon put your trunks on.” He pushes the red shorts into Keith’s chest. Keith takes them and stands. He pulls his unruly hair into a high ponytail and begins to change. Lance, surprised at how pliable Keith is in the morning, turns around so he doesn’t peek as Keith strips.

“You done?”

“Yeah.” Keith’s voice sounds gruff.

“Awesome. C’mon!” Lance takes him by the hand.

 

Keith doesn’t fully wake up until he is halfway down to the beach. He finally registers what’s happening when he sees Lance carrying two surfboards and skipping happily in front of him. He’s giddy as he makes it to the water’s edge.

“Lance,” Keith sighs. His voice still sounds weak from resting all night. Lance turns at the sound of his name.

“Lance, I can’t surf.”

“It’s ok. I can teach you.” Lance runs up to him. Keith scratches at his arm. His eyes dart from side to side and he chews his lip. Lance can sense his unease. He takes Keith’s hands in his own.

“Do you know how to swim?”

“Yeah.”

“Just come swim with me then. Please? It’s our last day.” His thumbs rub soothingly over Keith’s fingers. Keith nods.

“Alright.”

 

Lance eagerly pulls him towards the water and doesn’t let go until they are ankle deep. Keith finally grabs the hem of his tank top and tosses it onto the dry sand. His fair skin stands out against the dark water. Lance fails at looking this time.

“I always wondered what you kept underneath those ironed suits.” He smirks.

“This is sexual harassment, Mr McClain.”

Keith’s expression is blank, but Lance has learnt how to read him.

“So I shouldn’t tell you that your abs are really hot?”

“Absolutely not. That would be entirely inappropriate.”

“Ah ok. So I won’t ask how many girls have swooned at your pecs then.”

“It’s best you don’t.” Keith states. There’s a devilish lilt to his smile. Lance snorts, then dives into the surf.

 

Keith makes his way into the water up to his hips. He hisses as a wave crashes against his navel.

“Ah shit! It’s so cold.” He hops up and down on one spot. Lance is already completely submerged and pops up next to him with a gasp.

“Oh yeah, it can be a bit tough to overcome.” He nods. “You know what really helps?” He smiles. Keith already feels like he knows what’s coming. He nervously backs away.

 

Lance dives underneath the black water again and Keith spins, waiting to see where he’ll pop up.

There’s a splash behind him, and freezing arms are suddenly around his chest. His footing is insecure, and he soon finds himself falling backwards. Cold water knocks the air out of his lungs and he is lost in the blackness.

 

He breaks the surface with a gasp. He can hear Lance giggling before he sees him. His long hair has completely fallen in front of his eyes like a black, inky curtain. He parts it with his fingers.

“You!” He turns to Lance with a menacing snarl.

“Hey, Cousin It. Nice to see your face again. I thought a clump of seaweed was stuck to your head.” Lance taunts.

Keith dives and lunges for the other man. Lance laughs and swims out of the way, circling back underneath the water and against Keith’s legs. Keith tries to catch him when he surfaces, but he is still too slow.

 

Keith’s anger subsides into playful competitiveness. The two dive through the surf, splashing and laughing. Keith doesn’t feel the cold anymore. He manages to grab Lance a few times, but each time Lance slithers out of his grip. He shrieks and undulates his lean body, until he falls back into the water with a happy whoop.

 

“Why are you so slippery? How are you so smooth? You’re like an eel!” Keith cries with frustration. Lance swims around him in circles.

“It’s called manscaping. Every part of my body is waxed, so I am a smooth, swimming machine. The laws of physics no longer apply to me.”

Lance pops up in front of him. Rivulets of water pour down his smooth chest and dip into his navel. He brushes his hair back with a confident smile.

“Sexy right?”

“You remind me of a sea cucumber.” Keith states. Lance gasps in mock hurt.

 

Keith uses the distraction to finally tackle him into the water. His body hits the surface with a loud ‘smack’ and their limbs tangle. They break the surface together, Keith’s hands still firmly around Lance’s waist. Lance coughs.

“Serves you right.” Keith glares.

“Aren’t you supposed to protect your client, Mr Kogane? Not drown them.” Lance’s tone is clipped and professional.

“It was for your own good, Mr McClain. To show you that you’re not as indestructible as you think. Now you’ll make more responsible choices.”

“I’ll show you responsible.” Lance tries to tackle Keith again, but Keith is ready. He grabs Lance under the knees and lifts him up, out of the surf. With a powerful heave, he tosses him in the water.

“Oh shi-!” Lance’s expression is a mixture of impressed and fear.

 

…

 

Lance and Keith continue to playfully spar with each other as they walk back to the house. The morning is bright now, and most of the family would have started their day. Keith’s stomach grumbles.

“Want me to make you some breakfast?” Lance asks.

“I can do that myself, thank you” Keith walks proudly into the house.

“Yeah, _now._ ”

 

The two move back towards their rooms. Keith wants to shower and get all the salt off of him before he does anything. Lance enters his room when a loud ring punctures the morning air. Keith and Lance exchange glances. It’s definitely not one of Keith’s alarms.Lance groans. He hops over to his phone, lying forgotten on his bedside table. It vibrates and continues to scream. Coran’s name lights up the screen.

 

“Hello?” Lance hesitantly answers.

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?”

Even Keith can clearly hear Coran’s shouts from the other side of the room. Lance winces.

“In… In Cuba?” He mumbles.

“IN CUBA?” Coran’s voice jumps up an octave. “You’re supposed to be on the promotional circuit! Your movie is setting records and you are no where to be found! I’ve had news channels calling me round the clock trying to get interviews, but you’ve disappeared! Your studio is pissed! It’s in your contract that you have to-!”

“Coran! Coran I’m coming back tomorrow, ok?” The crease between Lance’s eyebrows has reappeared.

“You better be! I’m booking you on three interviews right now! I’m sending you the details in an e-mail. Be awake and ready to schmooze!”

“Alright.” Lance hangs up. He tosses his phone to the side.

 

His shoulders are slumped forward and his mouth is pulled in a tight frown. Keith feels compelled to move forward. He brushes Lance’s damp hair out of his eyes, then rests his hands on his shoulders. Lance leans into the touch.

“Let me make you some eggs.” Keith offers.

“Will you burn them?” Lance smirks. Keith lets his fingers graze against Lance’s neck as he pulls away.

“Of course not. I had an excellent teacher.”

 

…

 

With it being Lance’s last night, the entire family makes their way into the village, to enjoy one last meal at one of their favourite restaurants. They have a room all to themselves that is filled with lively chatter and twinkle lights. Lance cheerfully orders a round of mojitos for everyone, and pineapple sodas for the kids.

 

Keith stands guard outside the room, trying to do his actual job on his last night and make sure that no one disturbs Lance or his family. He can feel the contrast in temperature as the cool night air whirls against his front and the warmth from the room meets his back. He stands with his arms behind his back, watching locals make their way down the street in the last few rays of daylight.

 

“Lance, what is that boy doing?” Maria leans over Lance from behind and whispers. Lance finally looks up from his menu to see Keith, standing outside the room.

“Oh my god, is he…?” He sighs.

 

A chair screeches across the ground and the whole room falls silent. Lance’s abuelita shakily climbs off her seat and shuffles her way towards the door. Her footfalls are soft on the cement. Her arthritic hands reach for Keith and grab his arm. Keith starts at the touch. He turns to see the small, old woman, with a firm hold of his arm, trying to pull him into the room.

“Abuelita?” Keith stares in shock. “Abuelita, I have to guard the room.” His voice is gentle. He moves to release her grip. She shakes her head.

“No.” Is all she says.

 

And who is Keith to refuse? The old woman takes his hand and pulls him over to the family with a determined waddle. She shows him to the blank chair next to Lance and doesn’t let go until Keith has sat in it. She smiles wide, pulling her many wrinkles across her face. Her hooded eyes crinkle. She pats Keith’s head, then moves back to her seat.

 

“You don’t argue with Abuelita.” Lance whispers in his ear. Keith smiles. Maria pats him on the shoulder.

“You’re part of the family, Keith. You’re not working when you’re with us.”

“I’m not?” Keith chuckles.

“Of course not!” Maria declares.

“Oh, well in that case…” Keith turns to Lance with a smug grin. “Where’s my damn mojito?”

Marco and Luis bark with laughter. Lance shakes his head.

 

“Screw mojitos, I should get you some shots.”

 

…

 

The next morning is sombre. Eerily quiet. Keith feels like he’s getting ready for a funeral as he buttons up his suit jacket. It’s a light grey colour, so it’s not as formal as his usual black, but it still feels stifling. He packs his bag, full of the cameras and alarms he took down in the early morning, and rolls it into the hallway.

 

He runs into Lance. Lance who no longer has salt in his hair or dirt on his hands. There’s no sand between his toes or chicken fluff on his shorts. Instead, he’s dressed in a floral tank top, likely designer, and a pair of tailored skinny jeans. There’s a denim jacket tied around his waist, a long necklace with a silver pendant around his neck, and Ray Bans on the end of his nose. He’s slipping on his canvas shoes when he notices Keith.

 

They share a long inhale, taking in the smell of sea air andthe garlic soaked kitchen for one last time.

 

It’s a teary goodbye between Lance and his mother. She pinches his cheeks and babbles praises in Spanish. Veronica hugs him tightly and asks for him to find her a rich husband. He laughs. Marco, Luis and Lance hug in one large, brotherly group, that they soon pull their wives into. Lance kisses all his nieces and nephews on the forehead. He ends his goodbyes with abuelita. She presents him with a scarf. He takes it and wraps it around his neck, burying his nose in it and inhaling deeply.

 

“Nos veremos pronto.” He takes her hand in his and kisses her cheek. She smiles.

 

“We should be off,” He turns to Keith with glassy eyes. Keith nods.

“Gotta make those appointments, Mr McClain.”

Lance frowns. He hums in agreement, but his eyes stay on the floor.

 

“Hang on Keith, you can’t leave yet.” Veronica chuckles. Keith looks puzzled.

“I’ve gotta hug you goodbye as well.” She laughs. And to Keith’s surprise, she does just that. Keith is passed from relative to relative in a shocked stupor as he is hugged and pat on the shoulder. Maria squeezes him tightest.

“Take good care of my son.” She smiles.

“Always.” Keith promises.

 

…

 

The drive to Havana feels alarmingly quick. Airport security is a blur, and Keith and Lance find themselves on the jet in what feels like a breath. The take off is gentle and surreal. Keith watches out the window as Havana shrinks and aqua waters grow. Lance hasn’t touched his champagne in front of him.

 

“You’re very lucky.”

 

Lance looks up.

“Sorry?”

“You’re very lucky.” Keith repeats. “To have grown up here. To have all this. To have such a special family.” Keith sighs. “You’re very lucky.”

Lance wears a sad smile.

“I know. That’s why it’s so hard to leave.” He laughs.

 

Keith hums. He chews the inside of his cheek as he looks at the man in front of him. It feels odd. Like he’s been shown something no one has ever been allowed to see, and he now has to pretend it wasn’t there. He feels as if Lance Maldonado is an entirely different person to Lance McClain. Where does one begin and where does the other end?

 

Keith feels Lance Maldonado has been left behind on the beach, to bake in the sun and sand.

 

“Mr McClain…” The name feels stale. Lance’s smile falters when it reaches his ears.

“If it’s not too personal a question…” Keith treads lightly. “Are you ashamed of your heritage?”

 

Lance blanches. Anger briefly crosses his features, before they settle into a distraught sadness.

“No!” He implores. “No, never! I am proud of where I have come from! Extremely!”

But the words feel strange. Like he’s trying to convince himself more than Keith.

 

“Does it come across that way?” His voice is barely audible. He stares at his lap.

“It feels like you’re trying to hide it. Your name… McClain sounds Scottish or something.” Keith laughs. “I… I didn’t know _any_ of this about you…Lance.”

Lance stares up at the ceiling and crosses his arms. His eyes look glassy again. He sniffs, clears his throat, and opens his mouth.

 

“When I first came to Hollywood…” He leans forward on his knees. He stirs the little umbrella and strawberry in his champagne idly.

“My first agent strongly suggested that I change my name. Hide my accent as much as possible.” There’s regret in his eyes.

“And when you’re a skinny teenager out on his own in a strange country with just $10 in your pocket…” He shrugs. “You’ll do it.”

 

Keith nods in understanding. It hits something in his chest.

“Has it made a difference?”

“I dunno.” Lance chuckles. “But I know that no one has ever offered me the role of a drug dealer? Or a pool boy? Which is pretty much all my other hispanic friends have gotten over the years.”

Keith grimaces.

“What about your music though?”

Lance laughs at that.

“Listen, _Despacito_ was huge, but i guarantee most white people can’t tell you the artist. And I mean the real guys who made it, not Justin Bieber who was thrown in for a verse or two.” He explains.

“No, no, I don’t want any of my music to lie forgotten on a playlist for Taco Tuesday and nothing more. I don’t want to be a fad that some sorority girls go through.”

He puts on a high pitched, valley-girl accent and pretends to twirl his hair.

“I’m like! Really into latin music right now? Like there’s just so much flavour to it? And I really wanna fuck a Puerto Rican guy.” He tosses his hands in the air in disgust. Keith chuckles.

 

Lance leans back in his chair and stares out the window. His scowl eventually softens.

“Sorry, I don’t want to sound ungrateful.”

“It’s fine. I get it.” Keith shakes his head and laughs. “I’m Korean. Trust me, I get it.”

“Oh man, that’s a whole other stereotype.” Lance smirks.

“Gangnam style was not good for my people.”

Lance hisses like he’s in great pain.

“Oh man.”

“Yeah.”

They both laugh together. A feeling of solidarity thrums between them.

“You guys get cast as drug dealers? We get weird ,sexually repressed, exchange student… IT assistance or….” He thinks for a moment. “Dictator.”

Lance throws his head back and barks with laughter. He takes a large sip of his drink.

“I forgot to mention the latin lover trope by the way,” He smacks his lips. “Always the spicy adulterer.”

“God I wish we had that stereotype.” Keith laughs humourlessly. “I feel like every profile on Grindr says the same thing: “ Keith clears his throat and dramatically holds his hand in the air, like he’s reading a slogan on a billboard.

“No fats, no femmes, no asians. AND!” He continues. His pent up frustration is bubbling to the service, finally relieved to have some kind of outlet.

“If you _do_ find a guy that’s interested, you have to watch that you’re not just a fetish for him.”

 

“Oof yikes….” Lance laughs. He then pauses. He turns to Keith with wide eyes, certain he has misheard something.

“Wait, did you say ‘Grindr’?”

 

Keith just smiles and takes a long sip of his drink.

 

…

 

The jet lands seven hours later with a bump. They taxi to where they will disembark and feel the cabin decompress. Keith looks out the window and sighs.

 

Right where they will exit, is a massive crowd of people. Cameras are perched on their shoulders, some for photos, others are for television, and they all crowd around the railing Lance and he must walk through. Their microphones hum in wait.

 

At the end of the gauntlet is the car that will take them away. Coran sits securely inside.

 

Keith straightens his tie. Lance puts on his jacket. They stand at the door, bags clutched tightly in their hands, and wait. The door pops.

 

Keith pulls Lance close against him and holds his waist.

“Stay close to me.” He commands. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Lance sighs. Keith’s fingers press into his hip.

“Hey…” He speaks gently. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“I know.” Lance laughs. He looks at Keith with a genuine smile. He touches Keith’s hand on his hip.

“I trust you.”

 

The doors swing open to a cacophony of shouts and flashing lights. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone expect this fic to discuss racism in hollywood?  
> NOPE!
> 
> But it did!
> 
> Ok guys, next chapter will have building sexual tension. Feelings? Maybe angst.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming back from Cuba is hard.
> 
> But photoshoots are fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Gradually turns up the sexual tension dial*

Keith and Lance’s relaxing week away is shattered on impact. It feels like a lifetime ago as they are yelled at and their photos are taken. Keith keeps up the brisk pace, one arm tight on Lance, the other outstretched to his side to keep the paparazzi at bay. Lance keeps his head down. He turns his body in towards Keith, keeping how much of himself is exposed to a minimum. 

 

Keith is shocked. Not just at the number of people there, not just at how they found them, but shocked at the _things_ that are yelled at Lance. 

“Lance! Did you have a nervous breakdown?! Did you suffer from a mental health relapse?!” Someone yells behind him, like Lance would ever actually stop and answer. They continue their march. 

 

“Lance, do you have a secret lover?”, “Were you visiting your girlfriend?”, “There are reports you went international. Are you involved in a drug cartel?”, “Why have you not said anything about your film’s release?”.

 

Keith dodges all of these and scoffs at the most ridiculous ones. The car is just a few feet away now. He bats at intrusive microphones and does not stop when they clatter to the ground.

“You ok?” He mumbles. Lance nods against him. 

 

Keith is thankful that the car door opens from within, so he does not have to stop open it himself. It would just be a small moment, but any time they stop gives someone the chance to grab Lance. The smallest pull of focus could have dire consequences. He pushes Lance into the seat and immediately slides in after him. Keith pulls the car door shut in one smooth movement. 

 

Keith and Lance let out an exhale together. Keith’s pulse is still thudding in his throat, but he finally relinquishes his grip on his client. He deeply breathes as the car finally moves. Lance still has a hold of his jacket. 

 

“Well that was a spectacle!” Coran turns in the front seat. “Do you see what I’ve been dealing with since you left?”

“Sorry.” Lance sighs. It sounds hollow. Coran frowns. 

“It’s alright. They’re all vultures, the lot of them. But I do think your fans were starting to worry.” He softly explains. Lance hums.

“We’re going to an interview now with E news, so the chaos of this should hopefully calm down after that. They’re paying quite handsomely to be the first ones to interview you as well! So that’s good! You can put some more money towards your next holiday.”

Lance just shrugs. 

“Yeah I guess.”

Keith squeezes his thigh. It immediately makes Lance look up at him. He forces a smile. 

 

“Help pay for that motorcycle Luis has been eyeing?” Keith suggests.

Lance’s smile turns small and genuine. He huffs out a small chuckle.

“You’re right. He would like that.”

 

They arrive at the studio too quickly. Lance moves through the ministrations of producers and makeup chairs like it is a regular occurrence he does every day. Like how someone else might hang laundry on a line or wash dishes. Keith watches in interest as they put makeup on him.

 

_What more could you do? He already looks perfect._

 

They do not do much. Just some powder so the lights don’t glare brightly off of his skin. He’s shown to the interview chair and quickly shakes his interviewer’s hand. A man with blonde highlights and too shiny teeth. Coran gives Lance a few words of advice before the cameras start rolling.

 

“Be charming! Be fun! Keep it light!”

“I always am.” Lance winks.

 

_Ah. He’s back._ Lance slips easily into his charismatic, superstar persona like he’s putting on a pair of old jeans. Keith can see it now. It’s in the lilt of his eyebrows, how his smile raises on only one side, and his eyes are lidded.

 

Keith wonders when he started being able to read Lance so easily.

 

“So where…?!” The interview starts. Lights turn up to their maximum and a camera whirs. 

“On Earth have you been? Where did you go? You just disappeared!” The interviewer asks. His tone is light, knowing he cannot come across as accusatory to someone as charming as Lance.

Lance slowly shrugs. He chuckles and grins.

“I just went to the beach.” He laughs. “Do I not deserve a holiday? I relax for a week and everyone panics!” He laughs more openly and the interviewer chuckles along with him.

“All you guys are developing these complicated conspiracy theories, and I was literally just chilling on a beach with a mojito the whole time.”

The interviewer laughs, but continues to pry.

“Which beach?”

“One I own! Like that’s what’s so ridiculous about this,” Lance leans back in his chair. “I was basically just hanging out IN MY OWN HOUSE for a week and all of you are like ‘wheeeere did he gooo?’”

“But why now? Why did you choose this particular week?” The interviewer’s eyes narrow. Lance fidgets in his seat. He scratches his cheek and grins sheepishly.

“Ah, honestly?” He clears his throat. “I was _really_ nervous about this film’s release. Like I had faith in the film! But I was so nervous about audience’s reactions to _my_ performance.” He straightens his posture. The interviewer nods with practiced sympathy. 

 

“Well you really shouldn’t be.” He smiles. “It’s breaking box office records for opening day and week. Critics love it. _I_ love it!” He laughs. “And everyone is praising _you_ particularly. You really rose to the occasion. You blew a lot of us away. Mary!” The interviewer yells to his co-presenter watching from the side lines. 

“Did Lance’s performance surprise you?”

“Uh no!” A blond woman in tailored red trousers and a white blouse calls out. She stands next to Coran.

“I knew he could do it, and when I _said_ he was going to be fantastic all you _guys_ were skeptical. I was already a massive Lance McClain fan going into this movie.”

Lance blushes and waves off their compliments.

“Aw stop.” He chuckles. 

 

“She’s right, I was skeptical, but you really showed me. You’re fantastic in it, everyone loves you. Everyone loves that shirtless scene.” The interviewer leans forward and mutters the last part from the side of his mouth with a wink. Lance blushes deeper.

 

Keith’s ears burn.

 

“Oh!” Lance’s eyes widen. “D-Do they?”

“Best part of the movie!” Mary yells out. Everyone laughs.

“You liked that?” Lance pivots in his seat to look off camera towards her.

“It’s my phone lock screen!” 

“She’s not joking, it really is.” The interviewer confirms.

“WHAT? No. I don’t believe you.” Lance shakes his head.

 

The clack of high heels announces Mary’s entrance into the shot. She brandishes her phone towards Lance, away from the camera so Keith has to strain his neck to try and catch a peek. He is unsuccessful.

 

“O-Oh yeah! Those… those are my nipples.” Lance blinks at the device several times. Everyone on set giggles at his obvious shock, and Mary jogs off once more. 

“I’m sure that scene will definitely help seduce some ladies out there.” The interviewer waggles his eyebrows.

“Or is there anyone in particular who you would like to notice this?”

“Hmmmmmm” Lance hums and leans back in his chair confidently. He tents his fingers together. “What are you really asking?”

 

Keith rolls his eyes. He knows exactly what this question is getting at. What people seem to always ask Lance about.

 

The reporter nervously laughs and shrugs.

“I think a lot of people are just curious…” He dances around his answer. “About whether you have a special someone in your life. You’re not usually single this long.”

“I’m not usually this busy for this long.” Lance quips back. 

“Uh, no, no.” He sighs. “There’s not anyone. I’m really just trying to focus on my career and music right now.”

 

The reporter nods. He looks dissatisfied.

 

…

 

Coran drags them to two more interviews immediately afterwards. They are similar in their questions, mostly prying about where Lance has been and why he left. He gives the same answer both times. His ease and charm has them convinced easily. 

 

They only get to the press tour questions at the end. They ask about his time filming, about any funny antics whilst on set, and what audiences can expect. 

 

In one interview, the reporters hand over pictures of his co-stars’ and his own ab muscles. They ask Lance to rate them from first to last. Lance stands up, laughing and happy to break out of the monotony of questioning. 

 

He puts his male, supporting co-star first. A safe and respectable choice.

“Who’s this?” Lance points at a set of dark skinned abdominals.

“That’s Lotor.”

“Oh, I didn’t recognise him without his L’oreal sponsored hair.” He chuckles. Keith smirks. 

 

He ends up putting Lotor second last. 

 

“And I know this skinny little tummy is me and I definitely serve last place.” Lance puts his photo on the bottom.

“What? No!” The interviewers call out. Keith almost joins in. For once he actually agrees with the media.

“No way are you last!” They cry.

“Are you seeing these beef cakes?!’ Lance exclaims and points to the other photos.

“But look at the definition on you!”

“You mean around my ribs?” 

“Stop it!” The girls throw their cue cards at him. He dodges and laughs, skipping back to his chair. 

 

It’s only in the final interview that he is asked about his music career. Lance’s eyes widen the smallest amount when they talk about an upcoming album and what he is hoping to achieve with it.

“Do you have a particular sound in mind?”

“Uhhhhhhhh….” Lance sighs. “I think I’d like it to be more personal? Maybe a bit closer to my feelings, and how I have grown as a person.”

The interviewer looks surprised at this answer. 

“Oh?” He smiles. “Any painful heartbreak songs? I can’t imagine what the perfect Lance McClain could feel vulnerable about.”

“Oh no, not like that. I was just thinking it would be 11 songs about my love for devil’s food cake.”

Everyone chuckles.

 

Lance dodges the probing question masterfully. Coran breathes a sigh of relief. 

 

…

 

Keith drives a weary looking Lance home. It’s hard to believe that they had actually started the day in Cuba. That feels like a week ago already. 

 

Keith had chanced a look at his phone and noticed that Lance’s interviews were indeed trending. Headlines shout his return and focus on his beach tanned skin. Most reactions seem positive. 

 

Lance sighs and leans against the car’s windows. He shuts his eyes, finding the vibration of the car soothing. Keith turns on some soft music. It’s the instrumental playlist he knows Lance likes. He has added some songs that he remembers Lance singing with his brother’s while in Cuba. He hopes they make the separation sting less.

 

Lance hums appreciatively when one begins to play. The smooth sounds of the Buena Vista Social Club flood through the car and Lance taps on the door in time with his fingertips. 

 

“You know,” Keith speaks. “Maybe I _should_ see this new movie of yours, seeing as how everyone is raving about it.”

“Interviewers are paid to compliment me.”

“Mmmm but box office earnings don’t lie.” Keith shrugs. There is then a devilish glint to his eye. He looks back at Lance through his rear-view mirror and smirks. 

 

“Besides,” He grins. “Maybe I just want to see it for that shirtless scene.”

Lance rolls his eyes. But he smiles. And that’s what is most important.

 

Keith wonders when that became his priority. 

 

…

 

Keith helps Lance up to his apartment with his bags. He insists on wheeling his suitcase, and carrying it over the few stairs in the lobby. Lance fights him the whole way. 

 

They enter his apartment and the atmosphere shifts. For the first time in a week, Keith and Lance will not be sleeping in the same house. It feels strange. Keith has gotten used to Lance being the last person he sees at night, and the first person who greets him in the morning. He has become used to the constant murmuring of others in the same house and going to sleep with a full belly and the sound of a radio playing in the distance.

 

Keith expects his apartment will be uncomfortably quiet. And cold. 

 

“Do you wanna eat desert with me? I think I have some ice cream in the freezer still.” Lance offers. The two young men shift awkwardly in the doorway. Lance adjusts his grip on his shoulder bag. Keith pulls at his jacket hem. 

“I really can’t.” Keith shakes his head. 

“Why not? You’re more than welcome to stay the night.” Lance leans on the door frame. Keith lifts his gaze. A mournful smile begins to form on his face. He forces it to look kind.

“Bodyguards are friendly… but never familiar, Mr McClain.” Keith repeats the phrase that he uttered the first time they met. The phrase that was drilled into him every day during training. 

 

“Even after our holiday?” Lance scoffs. 

“ _Your_ holiday. I was still working.”

Lance looks crestfallen. His smirk falls and his eyes move to the floor. 

“Oh,” He frowns.

 

Something twists in Keith’s gut. He scrambles to correct himself. To make Lance not frown anymore. 

“But…” He cautiously starts. “I really do love my job.”

 

Lance brightens immediately. His eyes shoot wide and his dazzling smile emerges. He laughs lightly, and fiddles with the strap of his bag once more. 

 

_Cute._

 

“Yeah?”

“Of course.” Keith nods. “You’re a pain in the ass, but I…” He chooses his next words carefully. 

“I enjoy working for you.” His voice is quiet. Lance bites his bottom lip. 

 

“I’m glad to hear that.”

 

…

 

The next few days are a blur of driving Lance from studio to studio, some television, some radio. His charm dial has been turned to maximum and his days are spent in a whirlwind of interviews, enchanting reporters and audiences alike. He is on late night talk shows and morning breakfast shows. He is making eggs with Good Morning America at 8am, dancing with Ellen at 2pm, and laughing with Jimmy Kimmel over some anecdote at 9pm. 

 

He repeats the same sentiments over and over, never once letting on how bored he is of answering the same questions. He praises his directors and co-stars at every opportunity, doing his duty or promoting the film, whilst still appearing humble and welcoming all compliments with sincere thanks. 

 

It’s awe inspiring. Keith wonders how he has so much energy and patience. 

 

When Lance is not in a studio physically, he is asked to Skype in to interviews or even just talk on the phone. Keith walks in on him one morning lounging in his bathrobe, apparently co-hosting some radio show.

“Oh yeah I love that song! That artist is so good!” Lance quickly puts his mouth over the receiver and whispers to Keith.

“I’ll be ready in 30 minutes I promise.” 

A tinny voice comes through the ear piece and Lance is quick to respond. 

“No, no. I haven’t met her, but I would be happy to. What other artists are in our playlist this morning?”

Lance whispers to Keith again. 

“I swear! I’m just scheduled for another 20 minutes.”

 

Towards the end of the week, Lance finally starts to show that he is a mere mortal. He naps in the car as he’s driven around, and bags appear under his eyes. He whines and pokes at them in the morning.

 

“They’re taking my _youth,_ Keith.”

“That’s what makeup is for. C’mon.”

 

It’s late, after another talk show appearance, and Keith is driving Lance home when he finally gets some news that energises him again. The phone rings out, rousing Lance from his dozing. 

“If this is Coran…” He groans. He lets it continue to ring. 

“Lance,” Keith chides. 

Lance huffs and pulls out his phone. He makes a delighted noise when Pidge’s name flashes up on the screen. He beams and answers it with a wistful sigh.

“Hello, my dear.”

“What the fuck?” Pidge’s curt tone cuts through the car. Keith even laughs at her reaction. 

“I’m just excited that you’re not Coran is all.”

“Oh I see. So you’d sound this happy for anyone.”

“No, of course not.” Lance scoffs. “What’s up? I feel like we haven’t talked in forever.”

“I know. But you don’t exactly make it easy, Mr. Superstar with his crazy booking schedule.” She teases. Lance loudly groans. 

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m dying.”

Pidge laughs.

“Well listen, I know you’re super busy right now, but Matt and I are going to be doing a performance for charity in two weeks. It’s kind of a teaser for our upcoming tour, but we’re raising money for the Children’s Cancer Research Fund and we were wooonnnderiiiinnnng….”

Lance arches an eyebrow. 

“Because you are _so talented_ and _so handsome_ and an overall generous and giving persoooon…”

“Pidge, just spit it out. What do you want?”

“Do you want to do a special appearance? Like just a song or two.” 

 

Lance shoots up in his seat. He clammers for his phone as he almost drops it and presses it tightly to his ear.

“Wha-Wait what, really?” He breathes.

“Yeah! I know it’s a lot to ask, but-“

“When is it?”

“Two weeks.”

“Keith!” Lance points dramatically towards the front seat, where Keith glares at him through his mirror. His violet eyes look unamused. 

“Clear my schedule in two weeks time!”

“I’m not your personal assistant, Lance.” Keith drawls. Lance holds his position while he thinks.

“Please remind me to tell Coran to clear my schedule in two weeks!”

Keith chuckles. 

“Sure thing”. 

 

Lance spends the rest of the drive home humming his own songs under his breath. He dances through the lobby of his apartment building and skips through his front door. 

“Now tomorrow,” Keith calls after him, “Is my day off.” 

Lance pauses his swaying. 

“So don’t you dare call me saying we have to go to Barbados or something.”

Lance giggles.

“I won’t! I won’t, I promise.”

“You better.”

 

…

 

Keith sleeps in til the late hour of 8am. He enjoys a long work out at his local gym, relishing the way his arms ache as he hits the punching back with a practiced rhythm. He jogs back to his apartment and takes a leisurely shower. His phone doesn’t ring once. Thank god. 

 

Keith goes to his local grocery store for the first time in months. A week of take-away has left him missing the warmth of a home cooked meal. The satisfaction of making something for yourself. The homely smell of spices flooding a kitchen. The thrill of Lance’s hand guiding his own whilst holding a spatula. 

 

_Wait._ Keith represses that particular reason he enjoys making eggs now. 

 

He picks up some vegetables and cheese for omelettes, and bread for french toast. He’s still not a chef, but he’s proud of the repertoire he’s slowly building. Maybe soon he’ll be able to proudly wear the title of ‘Functioning Adult.’

 

The sun is warm on his bare shoulders as he walks home. His strong arms easily carry several bags without complaints, and he enjoys the easy walk without having to worry about someone jumping out of the bushes unexpectedly or a sudden camera flash. There’s a light contentment to his stride. 

 

He pauses at the traffic lights and taps his foot while he waits for the green man to appear. His grocery bags swing by his sides. A bus pulls up in front of him with a hiss. His eyes move over the glossy windows until his gaze meets Lance’s. 

 

A poster of Lance that is. His body covers half the bus and he shoots a cocky smile. His red, leather, jacket is caught in a moment of motion and he holds shining, sci-fi dueling pistols in a pose reminiscent of Sailor Moon. The bottom of the poster is covered in quotes from critics praising the film. Keith smiles. Something like pride bubbles within him. The bus pulls away and his gaze holds onto Lance until it is out of sight. 

 

The thought starts small, but is a full idea by the time Keith gets home. He puts away his groceries and reaches for his phone before the shame can settle in. His hits Shiro’s contact.

 

“Keith?”

“Hey,”

“You ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.” Keith sighs. Shiro is as protective and worried as always. 

“I was just wondering what you were doing tonight?” 

“Well!” Shiro chuckles. Keith can picture his mocking grin already. “I thought I’d just disappear to Cuba for a week and not tell my closest friend.”

“Ha ha, very funny.” Keith rolls his eyes. “And in my defence it was _very_ short notice and I was panicked preparing for it.”

“I know, I know, Kolivan told me.”

“So are you free to hang tonight or what?” Keith crashes onto his couch. It’s not as stuffed as Lance’s, but it gets the job done. 

“What would we be doing?”

Keith pauses. He chews on the inside of his cheek.

“See a movie?” He mumbles.

 

There’s a bark of laughter on the other end of the phone.

“Are you _actually_ suggesting we go to see Lance on your day off?”

“It’s supposed to be good!” Keith squawks. He knew Shiro would catch on alarmingly quick. “And it’s an action movie! With space ships and junk! It’s stupid not to see this movie just because my employer is in it.”

“Uh huh, uh huh, whatever you have to say to convince yourself.” Shiro snickers. Keith groans.

“You coming or what?”

“I’ll see you at six.”

 

…

 

Keith and Shiro indulge in some greasy, fast food before the movie. They fold themselves into the only stools in the corner restaurant and enjoy their kebabs, dripping in garlic sauce and oils. It’s not often that the two of them get to meet like this. Keith relaxes immediately in Shiro’s presence, and appreciates how much Shiro laughs and smiles when he’s off duty. He looks calm and … _normal_ out of his suits. As normal as a very handsome man with a prosthetic can be anyway. 

 

He wears a grey hoodie and black track pants, fully savouring being out of his stuffy clothes. He wipes his mouth and hands on his napkins, before he tugs at Keith’s burgundy jacket. It’s a dark, red, leather, and cropped so it hits Keith at his rib cage. Shiro smiles at the white stripes down the sleeves. They remind him of how he and Keith would stay up late to watch the formula one races whenever a big event was on. Keith always liked the red cars best, regardless of who made them. 

 

“This is fancy.” Shiro grins.

“Fanks!” Keith smiles around a mouthful of food. “I really like it. I look like a race car driver, right?” He beams. Shiro chuckles.

“Yeah you do.”

“Mmmm.” Keith hums and takes another large bite of his kebab. Shiro looks closer at the jacket with interest. He wonders if it’s real leather. It’s at least an excellent imitation.

“Did Lance buy it for you?”

Keith glares at him, continuing to silently chew. 

“I’ll take that as a yes then.”

 

The night is cool as they leave the restaurant and walk to the cinema. It’s a dingy place with stained carpets, but Keith knows it’s run by one family and the ticket rates are great. $8 for an adult? Hell yeah. 

 

The theatre is surprisingly busy for a weekday night. It’s almost half full, but there is a good energy to it. All the patrons are adults at least, so Keith is thankful for that. 

 

The movie is your typical superhero movie fair. The writing is tight, with good pacing and plenty of moments of levity to counteract all the tense drama. The action is well choreographed. Keith always has to admire to the stunt work and sound mixing for fight scenes. He knows what a punch to the jaw sounds like, so he has to nod in agreement when Lance gets smacked across the screen. 

 

Lance really does carry the film. He’s a fast talking gunslinger, with a quick wit and even quicker aim. His smile is dazzling. The grease on his face makes him look rough in the sexiest way and, of course, he gets the girl in the end. 

 

It’s before the final fight, when the group of heroes are at their most desperate and on edge, that a scene in Lance’s bedroom begins. It’s dark, and soft music begins to play. 

 

_Oh shit._ Keith feels the atmosphere shift. Watches as all the classic movie tropes begin to come in. Soft music, low lighting, a hazy lens that makes everything look soft around the edges. Lance slips out of his stained shirt in a smooth motion. There’s a closeup of his chest as his dog-tags bounce against his sternum. The female lead walks into the room. 

 

Keith’s mouth is dry. He grips on to his armrest tightly. 

 

“This is so stupid.” Shiro snickers in his ear and takes a big slurp of his drink.

“Uh huh.” But Keith barely hears him. His eyes are wide and his pulse is in his throat as the girl’s hands are on Lance, mapping out his stomach, chest and arms. Lance’s gaze is heated.

 

Keith feels… weird. He feels himself become enveloped in a confusing wash of emotions. There is a layer of discomfort, because this is a man he knows personally, so now Keith has become a voyeur. There is an anticipation. An obvious arousal stirs whenever the shot focuses on Lance. On his hips, on the way his mouth parts, on how his abdominals shudder when he’s touched. Keith has never denied that he’s found Lance attractive, but now it seems painfully clear how much he likes looking at him. How much he wants to feel Lance’s body under his own fingertips. How he wonders what Lance’s lips would feel like against his.

 

But instead, there is an actress experiencing all of these wondrous things. Keith tastes something sour. It hurts. Why does it hurt?

 

Keith sits stiffly throughout the entire scene. It’s vanilla, but justifiably PG -13. He finally swallows when the scene fades to black and he can focus again on the plot, rather than the want in his gut. He’s never been so grateful for a bloody shoot out before.

 

The film ends. Shiro pats his shoulder when ‘LANCE MCCLAIN’ rolls across the screen credits in a dominating font. He’s the first credited actor.

“It’s your boy!” Shiro beams. Keith likes the way that sounds.

 

They both say they enjoyed the film, but Keith lets Shiro leave when he catches him stifling a yawn. He knows they both need their sleep. The next day is another full one. Shiro squeezes him tightly goodnight. Keith hugs him back and they promise to do it again soon. 

 

…

 

Keith decides not to tell Lance that he saw his film. He thinks it would just embarrass them both. Even though he wants to praise Lance on his job well done, he doesn’t think he needs any more of that. He’s had people singing his praises for a fortnight now. 

 

But Keith hopes that it might mean something more coming from him. 

 

No. It’s embarrassing. He snuck out to see his client even on his day off. He won’t tell him. He’ll mention it in passing in four years. That should be long enough. 

 

Keith arrives at Lance’s apartment the next morning. He has his own key now, so he can let himself into the lobby and the front door of the apartment. He’s about to announce his arrival when he hears Lance laugh loudly. 

 

Keith follows the noise into the living room, where Lance is restlessly pacing, his phone to his ear, and a manic smile is on his face.

 

“Uh huh. Uh huh.” He punches at the air.

“Well I’m sure I can make an exception. No, no! I’m very honoured! This is honestly such a shock.” He shuffles an excited little jig as the person on the other end begins to talk.

“Yes! No it’s no trouble! I can fit it in. I’ll make room, I promise. Thank you so much. Ok…. Ok… I’ll be there…. Ok…. Goodbye! Yes, yes, no trouble, ok… goodbye now. See you tomorrow.” Lance hangs up the phone. He leaps into the air and whoops. 

“HAHAHAHAHA!” He holds his arms above his head and claps. Keith raises his eyebrows at the spectacle.

 

“Something good?”

“Keith!” Lance turns with a thrilled smile. “Congratulations, you are now basking in the presence of this year’s Sexiest Man Alive.” He juts out a hip and dramatically flips his hair.

 

Keith does not even try to keep his stoic facade. His eyes widen and his voice drops to an awed whisper.

“Wait, what? Really?” 

“Yeah!” Lance beams. Keith rushes forward. He knows that this is a _big deal_.

“Th-That’s so great! Do you get anything? What do you have to do?” His smile betrays his excitement. Lance preens under the attention. He grabs Keith’s hands and swings them back and forth.

“UM I have to do a photoshoot with one of the industry’s most sought after photographers, AND do an exclusive interview blah blah blah, whatever. But it just sounds really great after my name, right?”

Lance drops Keith’s hands and shoots him with finger guns. He throws in a wink for maximum effect. 

“Hi I’m Lance McClain. You may have heard of me? I’m currently the s _exiest_ man alive”

 

Keith throws his head back and laughs. Lance’s bravado falters. He stares at the smooth expanse of Keith’s throat and how his hair flutters around his ears.

“You’re ridiculous.” Keith sighs. “Anything else?”

Lance remembers himself. 

“Ugh,” He groans. “As part of the photoshoot I’ll have to take some photos with Lotor, because he’s number 2”

“But you beat him, right?” Keith smirks. 

“Hell fucking yeah!” Lance stomps. “Let the record show that I am officially hotter than that European, rich, asshole.”

Keith chuckles. 

“I could have told you that.”

_Ooof thin ice. Back down._

 

Keith clears his throat.

“S-so when is this happening?”

“Tomorrow! So today…!” Lance holds his arms out wide. “Is spa day!” He makes jazz hands.

“I’ve already called the place and we are going to get to work. This face will be sparkling by the end of the afternoon.” 

Keith shakes his head and sighs. 

 

…

 

Lance skips into his favourite spa and into the arms of the waiting cosmetologist. She claps her hands and jumps up and down on the spot with giddiness as she congratulates Lance. She begins to talk him through the day and it sounds _extensive._ Scrubs, wraps, soaks, masks, manicures, pedicures, and peels. 

 

Lance lets himself be coated, rubbed down, then coated again. He lays on his front as some woman with impressive forearms massages his back and runs her fingers through his muscles. Keith tries not to smirk as Lance makes pained, little noises. 

 

“You ok?”

“Shut up.” Lance hisses. He yelps as his massage therapist hits another knot. 

 

His body is covered in some kind of green paste all over, before he’s wrapped in a cocoon of hot towels. His hair is held back by a headband and another employee paints his face with a tingly, white, mask. They place cucumbers on his eyes before they leave him to stew for 15 minutes. 

 

“You look like a shitty, vegan burrito right now.” Keith observes. 

Lance chuckles. 

“Mmmmm, a tasty widdle burrito.” 

“Stop that.”

 

The treatments finally end with a manicure and pedicure that leaves Lance’s natural nails shiny and nicely rounded.

“I wish I could get you guys to paint them.” He sighs. 

“You know I’d be happy to.” The girl pats down his oiled cuticles.

“I know, but I don’t think the magazine would like it very much.” Lance pouts. Keith grins from the other side of the room. 

“What colour would you get if you could?”

Lance smiles widely. He licks his lips as his free hand moves over the rainbow of colours. 

“This one!” He holds up an electric, blue colour. It reminds Keith of Cuban beaches and tropical drinks. 

“That one’s really nice. It has a pearlescent finish when it dries.” The girl finishes drying his hands.

“Oh man, even better.”

“Next time.” Keith pats Lance’s shoulder in a show of support. 

 

It’s still early afternoon when they exit the spa. Lance stretches up on his tip toes with a pop, crack and sigh.

“You hungry?” 

“What?” Keith’s hand pauses on the car door. 

“I wanna get lunch. Let's get lunch.” Lance slips in to the back seat. “There’s some great cafes just on the other side of the block. Let’s go.”

“Wh-Lance, this isn’t like Cuba. You can’t just go where you please. You _will_ be recognised and we _will_ be mobbed” Keith turns on the ignition.

“Ohoho, I haven’t shown you my secret weapon.” Lance rifles around in his bag until he pulls out a compact mirror and what looks like a dead, furry, animal. Keith stays parked as he watches with bemusement.

 

It turns out not to be a large rat, but is actually a blonde wig. Lance shakes it out, before pulling it onto his own head. He looks in his compact and tucks his real hair back with practiced precision. The blonde wig is longer, so it easily conceals his hairline. Keith thinks it might be real human hair. It would not surprise him.

 

Lance completes the look with a pair of large sunglasses.

“How do I look?”

“You look like a surfer dude who’s going to try and convince me that vaping is 100% healthy.” Keith deadpans.

“But do I look Like Lance McClain?” Lance peeks over his sunglasses with a smirk. 

 

And Keith has to admit… he does not. 

“God dammit,” He sighs. Lance laughs behind his seat and points out the way. 

 

…

 

The restaurant Lance shows them to has a relaxed, upscale feel. The prices make Keith blink several times, but food is served on cutting boards and they offer alfresco dining. There’s a cool breeze along the sidewalk. A waiter meets them out the front as they flip through the menu.

 

“Were you after a table for lunch?” He asks. Keith looks inside and sees that it’s only half full. The major lunch rush has died down. His eyes narrow at how many Chanel purses and Ralph Polo shirts he sees. 

“Yes thanks.” Lance takes the lead. He still smells like water lilies and orchids from the moisturiser left on his skin. It’s soothing to Keith’s nose as the wind whips it around him. 

“Inside or outside?”

“Outside please.” Lance answers quickly. 

_He can keep his sunglasses on if he’s outside_ Keith notes. So Lance is not completely useless at concealing himself after all. 

 

The waiter gathers up menus and shows Lance and Keith to a table outside, underneath a gondola covered in plants. Keith smiles as he pokes at a trumpet flower. Lance’s tan skin is dappled in golden light. He looks particularly radiant after his spa treatments. A bottle of ice water is placed in front of them and Lance pours them both a glass. 

 

The waiter leaves and Lance focusses intensely on the menu. He taps his lip in thought as he passes over salads and moves on to main dishes. 

“What are you getting, Keith?” He asks, still focussed on the menu.

“Oh, I can’t get anything. I’m working.”

“What.” Lance’s gaze flicks up immediately. “You have to get something.”

“No, I can’t be distracted.”

“We’ll stick out if you _don’t_ get anything.” Lance hisses. “And I’ll feel really awkward eating in front of you.” He leans forwards and grabs Keith’s wrist. “Please, Keith, I’m begging you-”

“Are you guys ready to order?” The waiter reappears at the table. Lance smiles and slides back in his seat. He lets Keith’s wrist slip out of his fingers. He thumbs through the menu until he sees what he wants. 

 

“Uh I would like a raspberry lemonade to drink, and I’ll have the fish of the day with the pear salad.” He smiles and hands his menu to the waiter.

“And for you?” The waiter turns expectantly towards Keith. Keith sits stiffly in his seat. His eyes bounce between the expectant waiter’s and Lance’s pressing expression. Keith glances at the menu. 

“Lasagne” It’s the first thing he sees.

“And to drink?”

“Uhhhhhh….”

“He’ll have a fresh squeezed orange juice.” Lance grins. He takes Keith’s menu and hands it to the waiter. He leans his chin on his hand in a relaxed pose. The waiter jots down the order and nods.

“I’ll bring those out for you shortly.”

 

Keith turns to glare at Lance.

“You’re pushing your boundaries.”

“I am not. I just want to have a normal lunch. And I like spending time with you.” He shrugs. Keith scoffs.

“Why?”

“You’re fun. I like you. You make me laugh.” Lance offers. Keith pouts and hopes Lance does not notice the heat rushing to his face. 

 

Keith looks up into the canopy of vines above. The orange trumpet flowers sway in the breeze, causing the light that streams through them to flicker. There is only one other couple seated outside, so it is quiet. Keith listens to the sounds of rustling leaves and the bubbling of a water feature behind him. Paper lanterns crinkle pleasantly. Keith wonders what this place must look like at night with the lanterns all lit, and the table settings illuminated in candle light. His fingers pet the small bouquet of fresh herbs potted in the middle of the table. 

 

“This place is nice.” He muses. 

Lance never takes his eyes off of the man across from him. He hopes his dark glasses conceal his unblinking gaze. He watches how Keith’s hair moves against his jaw with keen interest. He thinks his face looks handsome surrounded by a halo of green leaves and vibrant flowers. 

“I told you.” Lance sighs. 

 

They get their drinks first and Keith has to admit that his juice is the perfect accompaniment for the warm temperature and fresh atmosphere. Lance sips his lemonade with a happy little dance. Keith chuckles. 

 

When their food arrives, Keith is only barely aware that he should be looking out for anyone who might recognise Lance or try to suddenly approach. He’s quickly lulled into a feeling of comfort and he and Lance eat in a relaxed silence. He scoops up his tomato sauce with a slice of bread and munches. 

“I miss your mother’s cooking.” He admits. Lance smiles and nods. 

“Me too. There’s nothing quite like it.”

“But this is nice.” Keith finishes the last of his juice. He smiles as he sprinkles more fresh basil on his lasagne. 

“I really like this place. Thanks for bringing me here.”

 

Lance will never get sick of Keith’s shy smiles. They feel precious every time he spots one. He grins as he watches Keith tear the basil and drop it onto his meal like it is confetti.

“You are very welcome.”

 

Lance finishes his lunch first. Keith greedily sops up his sauce with bread, not letting a bit of it go to waste. The waiter appears at their table, like he has a sixth sense for when patrons are about to finish. He takes Lance’s plate. 

“Would you boys like to see our dessert menu? Maybe treat your boyfriend to some dessert champagne?”

 

Keith chokes on the bit of bread in his mouth. He coughs and pounds on his own chest. Lance’s smile never falters.

“Ah no thank you. I think we have to get going now.” Lance chuckles, trying to drown out Keith’s coughing.

“Alright, I will fetch your bill.”

 

Lance kicks Keith under the table when the waiter leaves.

“Are you so ashamed to be my boyfriend?” He pouts.

“Shut up.” Keith kicks back. 

 

Lance pays for it all, of course, despite Keith’s protests. The waiter seems to find their bickering cute, and that makes Keith hate it even more. He pouts the entire walk back to the car. Lance tries to climb into the front seat, but Keith puts his foot down at that. 

“Get your skinny ass in the back or I will forcibly pick you up and toss you back there.”

“Aw, but its lonely!”

“It’s not safe for you to be up here. You’re much more visible.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Mr McClain-“

“Ugh, fine!”

 

Keith smirks as Lance stomps into the back seat like a child.

“I get car sick you know.”

“You’ve never complained before.” 

 

Lance seems to be rejuvenated from his day off of interviews and incessant flashing of cameras. He’s talkative on the drive home and more energised. He sings along with the radio and taps his foot. Keith walks him up to the apartment like always and says goodbye at the door.

“Get your beauty sleep for tomorrow.”

“Mmm, but do you think I really need it?” Lance bats his long lashes.

“Yes.” Keith steps back into the elevator. This is where Lance would usually gasp and shout, but instead he just laughs.

“So mean. So cruel to me.” He sighs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Keith.”

“Goodnight… Lance.”

 

Keith only catches Lance’s thrilled smile for a second before the elevator doors close. 

 

…

 

Lance’s good mood is infectious the next morning. He is practically glowing as he tears across the apartment, down the elevator and into the car. 

“Do you like photoshoots?” Keith asks.

“Yeah? But this one is with this real big-shot photographer, so I’m really excited.” Lance leans forward so his face is just behind Keith’s neck.

“I used to watch a lot of America’s next top model, so I’ve always wanted to do something really crazy, you know? I’ll sit in a bowl of pudding. I don’t care! Just make me look good!” 

Keith chuckles. 

 

They reach the studio on time, like always when Keith drives the schedule. A man in a turtleneck greets them and takes them into wardrobe and makeup. Lance’s makeup is kept very minimal. A powder foundation to reduce glare. A dusting of bronzer to make his skin glow. A smear of eyeliner to bring out the bright, blue of his eyes. His hair is sprayed with a sea salt styling spray, so it looks windswept and effortless. Despite his casual makeup and relaxed hair, Lance is dressed in a fitted black suit. It’s kept chic with a white shirt and a skinny black tie. He looks at Keith and smiles.

“Hey! We match!” 

Keith laughs. He’s wearing an almost identical suit today, but his tie is a deep eggplant colour.

“Almost.”

“True. I think yours is nicer.”

“You would say that. You bought it.”

“What can i say? I have expensive taste.” Lance shrugs.

 

The man with the turtleneck escorts them both into the large, vacant studio. It’s painted white and feels sterile, except for the small corner that bright lights crowd around. The corner is dressed with a bed, bedside table and a dresser and mirror. There’s an upholstered chair to the side. The bed is dressed with white sheets, a silver, beaded, comforter, and vibrant red rose petals. They stick out strikingly against the whites and greys of the bedroom set. 

 

An Indian man in a black cardigan stands on a stepladder and inserts different coloured gels into the lights. A blue one and a red. His large grey moustache twitches with thought. His dark, bushy eyebrows pull together.

 

“Slav?” The assistant calls out.

Slav, the photographer, hops down from his ladder and walks over with open arms.

“Lance McClain!” His accented voice booms. “Welcome! Welcome to my studio.”

“It’s an honour to finally meet you, Slav. I saw your show at the MET.” Lance shakes his hand when they meet.

“Oh that! Pfft.” Slav waves him off. “That was only 22% of my best work. But thank you.” Slav places his hand on top of Lance’s. He spots his watch.

“Ah! Well Lotor is running late, so we’ll start with just you. Shall we, Lance?” Slav beckons for Lance to follow him to his set. 

“Uh…sure.” Lance’s voice is higher. There’s a hesitation to his steps. His shoulders look raised.

“Are you nervous?” Slav calls out.

“Ah, I guess, yeah.” Lance chuckles. He scratches at his arm. Slav moves in close and claps him on the shoulder.

“Ah don’t be. I predict a 96% chance you and I create something really magical here today.”

 

Slav is kind and starts off simply enough. He just shoots Lance against a blank wall, hands in his pockets or with his jacket tossed over his shoulder. Lance starts to ease up quickly, and Keith now starts to see the genius that is Slav, with his understanding of his subject and clear directions. With Lance more natural and comfortable now, Slav gets him to sit on the bed. He gets Lance to lean forwards on his knees and he shoots him from a downwards angle, looking up into his face. 

 

“Can you lean back a bit now? Maybe run a hand through your hair? Oh yes!” He cries when Lance leans back, a play of a smile on his lips, and his tan neck exposed. His broad shoulders are obvious as he leans back on his hands.

“Very handsome! Can you lay back for me?” 

Lance lays back, his arms bending over his head. A hand rests gently on his forehead.

“Like this?”

“Oh yes yes yes! Such a nice profile!” Slav shoots from the side, capturing the slope of Lances nose and sharp brow bone. He focuses mainly on Lance’s face for this pose. The way his jaw meets his throat. The lights cast the edges of his profile in a golden haze. 

 

“Ok, excellent! Alright, now sit up, just like before! But I need you to unbutton your shirt.”

“A what?” Lance blanches at this direction.

“Just undo the buttons of your shirt and undo your tie. Just let it hang around your neck.” Slav instructs. He’s changing lenses on his camera absentmindedly. 

“Uh wh….is that necessary?” Lance asks. Keith’s eyes narrow from the side of the shoot. 

“You are the sexiest man alive!” Slav announces. “So let’s make it _seeeeexxyyyy~_ ” The way the older photographer’s voice growls on that last word makes Keith very uncomfortable.

 

He can see Lance is uncomfortable as well, though for a different reason. 

“I just don’t know if it would…. do you need to put make up-“

“Hold on.” Keith strides confidently into the space, like he has every right to interrupt the shoot. He walks over to Lance and pulls him up. Lance wordlessly follows his lead. 

“I just need a word.” Keith calls out to Slav and the other assistants. They look confused, but let Keith proceed to pull Lance into a secluded, dark corner of the studio. They politely continue with their work and stay out of ear shot.

 

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Keith gets straight to the point.

“Wha-?” Lance nervously looks over his shoulder to see if anyone is watching. “Nothing, nothing.”

He avoids Keith’s gaze.

“Then take your shirt off. What’s the big deal? Undo your buttons.” Keith moves his hands to Lance’s torso, but he’s smacked away.

“No!” Lance hisses. Keith gives him an I-told-you-so look. “I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“I… I just don’t want to, ok? It’s my body!” Lance spits in a whisper. Keith is unfazed.

“Yeah, but why don’t you want to? Lance…” Keith’s voice becomes gentle. “Lance, what’s going on?”

 

Lance pouts. He kicks at the cement floor. Keith reaches for his elbow.

“Lance?”

“Ok so…” Lance groans. He continues to look at the ground. “I’m really insecure about my body, ok?”

Keith loudly scoffs.

“Shut the fuck up! Don’t make fun of me!” Lance picks up his gaze and stares into Keith’s eyes with  fury. Keith quickly shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but you’re being ridiculous. What are you insecure about?”

“That people will see this and laugh? Like _this_ is the sexiest man alive? This bean pole? What a fucking joke!” Lance’s arms flail wildly.

“Lance, Lance, calm down.” Keith catches his arms and presses them to his sides.  “You look great. You were shirtless in your movie right?”

“That was different.”

“How?”

Lance groans. He’s grappling with concepts he can’t vocalise. 

 

“Cuz… cuz it wasn’t me…”

Keith squints.

“What I mean is…” He sighs. He places his hands on his hips and collects himself. He breathes in and counts to three, thinking of his next words carefully.

“I’m playing a character when that scene happens, and to that character it feels normal. And for the story it feels normal. It’s not… _Lance._ ” He licks his lips. “It’s not _me._ But this here, is _just_ me and the whole point is so people look at me and go ‘wow he’s really hot’, but I’m terrified that it’s just going to look like a big joke.” His words become more frantic again. As non-sensical as he sounds, Keith does feel like he understands. Lance’s insecurity has always been there, bubbling underneath the surface, but he covers it in jokes and humility. 

 

Keith holds his arms again, trying to keep him grounded. His face scrunches in frustration.

“Lance, Lance, it’s ok.” He grips until Lance is quiet and breathing again. He releases his hold and pinches the bridge of his nose. He wants to make Lance feel better, but isn’t sure how to do it without crossing any boundaries. He can’t just tell Lance to stop being an idiot and realise he’s hot. Lance is vulnerable and scared. Keith will have to be honest and patient… two things he’s never excelled at.

 

“Lance, can I confess something to you?” He sighs. Lance peeks up. He nods. Keith swallows.

“I went and saw your new movie.” Realisation crosses Lances eyes. “And it was really good. I really enjoyed it! It’s definitely the kind of movie I usually like.” Keith rushes. He’s trying to distract from the point he’s slowly approaching. His mouth is drying up. His pulse is wild and stuttering. 

“But uh…” He crosses his arms over his chest. “When uh… when the shirtless scene with you started… I was really, _really_ conflicted.” He huffs out a humourless laugh. Lance’s eyebrows pull together. He listens attentively. 

 

“Uh, ha…” Keith cannot believe he’s doing this. “Speaking as a gay man, you were really attractive like… super hot, which is weird because you’re my boss right?” He fiddles with a bit of hair in front of his ear. Lance’s gaze never leaves his face.

 

“But I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” Keith finally whispers. He keeps his eyes trained elsewhere. He wishes the cement floor would open up and swallow him.  

“So I really don’t think you have anything to worry about.” He mumbles.

 

Lance is quiet. Keith waits for the mocking, teasing or disgusted noises, but none come. He feels Lance, before he hears him. Feels his hand grab his wrist and gently squeeze. Keith’s wide, violet eyes turn to look at Lance in shock, but he just shyly smiles. He begins to undo his tie.

“If you say so.” He smirks and undoes the buttons of his shirt. He winks at Keith, turns on his heel, and struts back towards the set.

 

“Slav, where did you want me?”

“Ah!” Slav jogs over from where he has been cleaning his lens. “Lance, good to see you’re up for it.”

“Well is this a sexy photoshoot or not?” Lance laughs. He strides over to the bed and sits. His expression betrays none of the crippling fear he had before. His posture is relaxed. Slav doesn’t question anything.

 

“Just lean back on your hands, that’s it. Just like before.” 

The click of the shutter tells Keith that Slav has started taking photos again. Keith carefully approaches the periphery of the set. Able to look on, but never at risk of being in anyone’s way. “Just look down at me, perfect.” Slav continues to praise. There’s a half-lidded, sultry look to Lance’s expression. He flits his eyes up for the briefest of moments and catches Keith’s gaze. Lance smiles. 

“Oh excellent! Perfect expression.”

Keith tears his eyes away.

 

“Okay, lay back on the bed now.” Lance does as he’s told. He shuffles himself up so he’s properly laying across the silken sheets, arms raised above his head. Slav brings over his step ladder and begins to shoot from above. 

“I need more petals.” He takes a bowl from an assistant and begins to throw red petals onto Lance’s stretched out body. Keith laughs quietly at the picture they paint. Some strange man standing on a ladder, pelting a young, confused, boy in a rumpled suit with petals.

 

“Yes, this is better. I needed approximately 22% more petals for contrast. Lance can you undo your fly?”

“My what?” Lance balks.

“Give them a peek! Just a little.” Slav implores. Lance swears under his breath as he undoes his fly and opens it up, just so a small triangle of navy underwear is visible. 

 

“Wonderful! _NOW_ we’re sexy!” Slav cries. He takes more photos from this bird’s eye view. Lance lays on the bed, shirt, jacket and tie all thrown askew, and open pants sitting low on his hips. Slav gives minimal direction, happy with Lance’s posing and expressions.

 

“Ok, uh last one.” Slav hops off of his ladder. “Can you take all your tops off? Shirt, jacket, tie, everything, and just lay on your stomach.” 

Lance nods. He sits up and tosses his clothes to an assistant, before rolling onto his stomach. He props his chin in his hand and shoots the camera a coy smile.

 

“Ah yes! Exactly what I was hoping for!” Slav praises. He shoots Lance from the side, as well as above, taking in the delicate curve of his exposed back. His sharp shoulder blades. Lance lowers himself closer to the mattress and sighs. His tousled hair and lidded eyes give him a just-been-fucked appearance. Keith shakes the image from his mind. He looks at the floor until Slav says that they are done. 

 

Keith shyly hands Lance the t-shirt he walked in with and he slips it back on. 

“Thanks, Keith.” 

Keith just hums. He goes back to his place on the side.

 

“Lance, I am so sorry, this is where I would start shooting you and Lotor, but he still isn’t here.” Slav apologises. “And by this time I think there is an 82% chance that he doesn’t show up at all.”

 

As if on cue, an assistant rushes into the studio. He rushes to Slav’s side and the two begin to speak quickly and quietly in a language that Keith cannot even begin to comprehend. Slav looks annoyed and frustrated. He dismisses his assistant curtly. 

 

“He is not coming.” Slav simply states. “I had 87 scenarios planned and at least 62 of them involved Lotor.” He mumbles under his breath. 

“Do… do we not have enough without him?” Lance nervously asks. He knows nothing about modelling or how this photographer likes to work. Slav’s sharp exhale in answer enough. 

“I had ideas!” He laments. “I really wanted to play with multiple models and-“ His dark eyes narrow in on a target. They hone in on Keith like a bird of prey sizing up a mouse from above. 

 

“You!” He points to Keith standing in the shadows. Keith glances at the people standing next to him, hoping Slav’s eye line meets up with one of them. It does not. 

“You there! You have excellent bone structure. How'd you like to be a model?” Slav grins.

“Oh yeah, Keith could totally do it. He's super hot.” Lance laughs gleefully. “You can replace Lotor, easy!”

“No, no, not replace. We’re doing something different now! Something 43% more exciting.” Slav explains. Keith walks into the set with a sour expression.

“I can’t. I’m Mr McClain’s bodyguard.” Keith explains. 

“No! Bodyguard yesterday! Model today!” Slav proclaims. Lance claps Keith on the shoulder. Keith rolls out of his touch. 

“Mr McClain can’t have a recognisable bodyguard. I’m supposed to blend in. People aren’t supposed to know who I am.” Keith walks them through it like it is obvious. Slav and Lance refuse to accept it. They both scratch their chins in thought. Slav twirls his moustache. 

 

“Can…” Lance starts. “Can you shoot us so you can’t see his face?”

 

A lightbulb goes off in Slav’s head.

“Yeeeeees.” He whispers with a crazed glint in his eye. “Yes of course! Give me limitations! I work best under them!”

“Is that ok then?” Lance turns to Keith. His smile is eager. Keith is glad that there’s no awkwardness between them from his previous confession. He half expected Lance to be wary around him, but here he is, begging to take photos together and tugging on his arm. 

“I suppose so.” Keith concedes. Lance and Slav cheer. 

Lance takes his old shirt off and reaches for his white, collared shirt.

“Should I put my suit back on then?”

“Absolutely not.” Slav slaps the clothing out of his hand.

 

He grabs Keith and drags him over to the back of the set, just in front of the carved, wooden dresser with the mirror sitting on top.

“Ok you just stand here, facing the back wall. I’m going to shoot you from behind, so i won’t see your face. Lance-“ Slav turns to where Lance has followed them. He positions Lance so he stands in front of Keith, their chests touching. Keith lets his hands settle on Lance’s waist. 

 

“Ok, now peek over his shoulder to look at me.” Slav stands back. He angles his camera so it is focused on Lance’s face, just visible over Keith’s shoulder. He is the focus, and Keith is the framing. The mirror on the dresser shows a nice peek of his bare back. 

 

Lance starts tentatively, just posing with his hands on Keith’s shoulders. 

 

“It’s ok. Ease into him. Look at the camera like it should be jealous of where he is right now.” Slav directs. Lance understands and steps closer. He winds his arms around Keith’s neck and shoulders, and he runs his fingers through his long hair. Keith stiffens.

“You ok?” Lance whispers. He pulls back to look at Keith’s face. Keith silently nods. 

“Sorry. Just tickles.”

“You ok if I get closer?”

“Mm.”

 

Keith moves his hands to Lance’s bare waist and Lance presses himself closer. Holds Keith tighter. He moves Keith’s long hair away from the nape of his neck and ear, brushing his parted lips against the skin there. Keith shudders. He closes his eyes and counts to ten.

 

“Ooh so daring! These will make excellent shots.” Slav’s camera clicks away. Keith stays very still, thankful that he can’t see the camera or Lance’s expression. 

“Ok!” Slav claps his hands together. “Lets do something new now! Something really sexy.” 

 

He pulls Lance over to a blank wall and repositions his lights. No props in this photo, just models. Lance asks if he should do up his fly. Slav stares at it for a long time before answering.

“No, I think it works like this.”

He pulls Keith over and orders him to take his jacket off, and roll his sleeves to his forearms. Keith does as he’s told. Slav manoeuvres him to stand directly behind Lance. Because Lance is taller, if he squats and stands perfectly behind him, his face isn’t visible. 

 

“Good. Now Keith, wrap your arms around Lance’s front.” Slav looks on with interest. Keith swallows. He can feel the heat radiating off of Lance’s skin before he’s even made contact. His fingertips just barely graze his stomach. Lance scoffs. 

“Keith, are you shy?” He teases. “I promise you’re allowed to touch me.”

“Shut up.” Keith flicks his nipple. Lance yelps. He brings back his elbow sharply to get Keith in the ribs.

“Boys!” Slav warns. 

 

With the tension gone, Keith doesn’t hesitate to wrap Lance up in his arms. Slav nods. 

“Yes, yes, i really like the contrast between his skin and yours.” He points to Keith’s pale arms standing out strikingly against Lance’s tan chest. 

“Very beautiful.” His camera clicks away.

 

Lance leans into Keith comfortably. He sometimes places his hands over Keith’s, or reaches up to brush back his hair. Keith starts to gain more confidence. He daringly lets his hands explore Lance’s body. Places them over his throat or splays his fingers across his stomach, feeling the sensitive muscles there. He shifts his stance so he hides his face in the side of Lance’s neck, letting his hair fall forward. His hand travels lower, until his fingertips just barely graze the band of Lance’s underwear. Lance keeps his eyes on the camera, but his breathing hitches. 

“You ok?” It’s now Keith’s turn to ask against Lance’s neck. Lance giggles. 

“I can feel your breath.”

“Sorry, should I go back to where I was?”

“No. I’m pretty cold, so this feels nice.”

“Yeah I can tell.” Keith smirks as he passes his hand over one of Lance’s pert nipples. 

“Stooop.” Lance laughs and squirms. 

 

With the initial awkwardness gone, Lance and Keith start to smile and laugh more. The intimacy between them comes easily. Lance is playing with Keith’s hair when Slav tells them to stop.

“Last set up!” He beams. He flicks through the previous shots looking pleased, but says he wants to do at least one more. He asks Lance to kneel and hands Keith a bottle of opened champagne. 

 

“If you can pour this on him, and Lance! Make it look sexy.”

“Whoa,” Keith and Lance both exchange nervous glances. 

“Slav, this feels kind of pornographic.” Lance’s expression twists with uncertainty. Keith nods in agreement. 

“No, no. You should smile and be playful! It’s fun! That will keep it fun and not porny.” Slav tries to reassure the two.

“And you know, if the magazine wanted conventional and safe they would not have hired me.” He mumbles. “So you up for it?”

 

Lance sighs. 

“May as well go all the way.”

“Oh man.” Keith readies himself. Only his legs and possibly his hand holding the bottle will be visible in the photo, which he is thankful for, because he’s not sure if he’ll be able to keep a cool expression during this. 

“You guys ready?” 

“Ready.” Slav stands poised with his camera focussed. Lance solemnly nods. 

“I just hope it’s not cold.”

 

Keith pours out the champagne slowly at first, not wanting to shock Lance with its temperature or how the bubbles pop on his skin. Lance immediately begins laughing at the ridiculousness of it. He lets it pour down his neck and bare chest until it splashes on the floor. Sticks outs his tongue for a cheeky taste and lets it fall into his hair. He’s laughing and smiling the whole time. Keith increases the flow. 

 

Lance tosses his hair, throwing an arc of champagne into the air. He laughs as he leans back on his elbows, rolling his head back. Champagne bounces against his chest and stomach.

“I feel like I’m in _Flashdance.”_ Lance laughs.

 

The bottle runs dry and Lance is left in a sopping puddle on the floor. The two look expectantly towards Slav. He’s grinning proudly.

“Good, good, I think I have everything I need.” He nods.

“And you!” He moves towards Keith and waggles his index finger. “I like you. I feel like in another reality we are good friends.” He digs around in his pocket until he produces a business card.

“Call me when you’re allowed to show your face.” He grins. Keith tries to hand the card back.

“O-Oh no, I don’t need-“ He stammers. Slav has already backed away. 

“Keep it! I predict a 63% chance that you’ll call soon.”

 

Keith tucks the card into his pants. He then remembers the soaked man at his feet. Lance looks sheepish, sitting in a puddle and wrapping his arms around his chest in an attempt to keep warm. Keith holds out a hand and pulls Lance into a standing position. His hair drips onto his nose. Showering in champagne may sound opulent, but it leaves Lance smelling sharp and sour.

 

“What do you think, Keith? Should I add bathing in champagne to my daily routine?” He cards his hair back with a smirk. Keith rolls his eyes, and before he can remember himself, he’s touching Lance’s shoulder with his tongue. His eyes are closed, and he licks a stripe around the slope of it, over its crest and down towards his bicep. He pulls away and smacks his lips.

“Tastes cheap. It suits you.” He sharply grins.

 

Lance short circuits. His shoulder seems to be burning where Keith has licked him, and the heat from it floods his veins. It courses into his face and pools in his lower abdomen. His face is a bright red and he stutters in shock. Keith seems pleased at this reaction.

“H….How… _dare_ you.” Lance’s gaping mouth twists into a playful snarl. He lunges for Keith, who is quick on his feet and runs backwards. He grabs a forgotten bowl of rose petals. 

 

“Get back! Get back, you!” Keith tosses the rose petals like they are a legitimate form of ammunition. They stick to Lance’s damp body, dotting his bronzed skin with dapples of bright crimson. Keith shrieks as he runs out and Lance continues to march towards him. He weaves through assistants and light poles. He hears Lance’s taunting just behind him. 

 

Keith curves around the set and runs into an assistant.

“Oh! I have a towel for-“

Keith snatches the towel and opens it wide in his arms. Lance collides into his chest. Keith wraps him tightly in the towel, so no champagne manages to soak into his own clothing. 

 

“Dry off, brat.” Keith smirks. Lance hums. He’s grateful for the warm towel and pulls it tightly around himself. 

“You’re so mean to me.” He murmurs into Keith’s shoulder. Keith lifts the towel and begins to dry his hair.

“I know, I know. So mean how I take care of you.” He sighs. Lance pinches his stomach playfully. Keith jumps away and giggles. 

 

…

 

“I’m cold.” Lance whines as they pull into his building’s parking garage. “And sticky.”

“Slav offered for you to shower at his studio.” Keith sighs.

“I don’t wanna shower in strange places. What if they have cameras and just want footage of my dick?”

Keith parks and opens Lance’s door for him.

“That’s what I’m for. I would check the place over.”

“Mmm it’s just better if I use my own place.”

 

Keith escorts Lance, now regretfully back in his own clothes that cling to his sticky skin, back into his apartment. Lance strips to his underwear as soon as the front door closes. 

“Ugh,” He’s pulls off his jeans with some effort and tosses off his shirt with a gross, peeling sound.

He turns to Keith with a flirty wink.

 

“Do you want to help me in the shower? I would love to give you a private screening.”

“I think I would just be disappointed.” Keith deadpans. Lance performs an over-the-top gasp.

 

“I didn’t confess that I thought you were attractive just so you could tease me about it.” Keith warns. Lance giggles. He grabs Keith’s hands and places them on his bare waist. 

“Mmmm, do you like touching me, Keith?” Lance purrs. 

“Stop.” Keith hisses and snaps the band of Lance’s underwear in retaliation. “Why I tell you anything-“ 

“Hey, hey, sorry.” Lance apologetically takes Keith’s hands again. The teasing curl is gone from his smile and has left something shy and gentle in its place.

“Keith I-“ He’s quieter. “I really had a lot of fun today. Thanks for stepping up and doing that with me.”

Keith relaxes into Lance’s touch. His defensiveness melts and he lets himself be drawn in once again. 

“Of course. I’ll always step up to help my client.”

“Well I definitely preferred posing with a friend than with _Lotor_.” Lance spits out his name. Keith chuckles. 

“Me too.” Keith lifts his eyes and raises a hand to cup Lance’s shoulder. “Were you still nervous?”

“Mn.” Lance hums and shakes his head. He smiles sweetly. “Not with you there.”

 

Keith has to step back. He suddenly needs air. Maybe it’s the stinging smell of Lance’s skin, or the uncomfortable, damp, heat between them. Keith removes his hands and tries to assemble a sense of professionalism. It is getting more difficult these days. 

“I should let you clean up. Can’t have that spa day going to waste with champagne clogging your pores.”

Lance chuckles.

“You know what pores are?”

“I didn’t before I met you.” Keith admits. Lance crosses his arms over his bare chest, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable in just his underwear. His shifts his weight from foot to foot. 

 

“Maybe you’ll finally join me in a spa day.” He offers, quietly. 

“Not a chance.”

They laugh.

 

Keith knows this is where he should leave. This is where he should say goodbye, but he can’t force his feet to move. It feels like he has unfinished business.

 

“If you wait for me to shower, we can get something to eat again.”

 

And there it is. The motivation Keith needs to remove himself. He smiles, but it’s not natural.

 

“I really should go. Appreciate the night off. We’ve got some big days coming up.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lance falls at the reminder.

“Have an early night. Relax.” Keith offers. He steps back through the doorway. Lance does not follow.

 

“Goodnight, Keith.”

“Goodnight, Lance.”

 

After his shower, after his dinner, and even after running on his treadmill, Lance lays awake in his bed. The memory of Keith’s touch consumes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sets sexual tension dial to MAX for the rest of this fic*


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The photoshoot has consequences.
> 
> Some expected, some not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter marks a pretty significant moment in this fic, so I hope you like it!
> 
> As a minor warning, there's the smallest mention of sexual assault. Nothing happens and nothing is described, but it is briefly discussed. Just a warning for those that might find that uncomfortable!

The following week is the usual whirlwind of press tour nonsense for Keith and Lance. Lance attends galas and charity dinners. The interviews, thankfully, appear to slow down, but Lance has now taken to dodging calls from his record label. They are keen to capitalise on his film success with new music soon. Lance has not touched his guitar in months. 

 

Keith leaves Lance one afternoon with his personal trainer, as he has to run back to the office and return the surveillance equipment he borrowed for Cuba. There is still sand in the lenses. He’s sorting cameras and alarms, placing them back into their proper containers when someone sneaks up behind him. Thace loudly clears his throat and throws a magazine down in front of him. It hits the table with a loud pwap. 

 

“Have you seen this?” He grins. Lance is on the cover of the magazine, seated and with a confident smile. His tie hangs loose around his neck. The words _‘Lance McClain is our official Sexiest Man Alive!_ ’ emblazon the cover. Keith picks up the issue. 

“Oh, this is out quick.” He hums.

“You should look at it.” Thace practically sings in his ear. Keith turns to glare at him, but his curiosity gets the best of him. He flips open the magazine to the article. 

 

The images start off mild enough. Keith recognises the bed, the dresser, the suit Lance is wearing. Then things quickly escalate. Lance writhing half naked on a bed with a come hither look, or leaning on his front where the curve of his ass is perfectly silhouetted against the bright studio light. There is a close up on his blue eyes peeking over an anonymous man’s shoulder, and Keith can suddenly smell his moisturiser all over again. He flips quickly through the images of Lance being embraced and fondled by pale arms, afraid his staring is being scrutinised by Thace. He almost skips over the pictures of Lance kneeling, his torso glistening wet with the champagne that has been poured over him, when Keith sees a photo he has no memory of posing for. 

 

He freezes. It is a full body shot of both Lance and himself. Keith is in the foreground, back to the camera, with his arms thrown forward. There is a flutter of red in the air and Lance is in the background laughing. Red petals stick to his skin and hair. He looks beautiful and effervescent, carefree in the moment. Keith looks at himself and feels anxiety creep on him. You cannot see his face, but he still worries that anyone who knows him personally will be able to recognise the man in the foreground. The way his dark hair rests on his shoulders. The curve of his spine. His slim waist and powerful legs that sit wide in a lunge.

 

“Who’s this guy?” Thace points at the figure. 

“Just some model. I don’t remember his name.” Keith mumbles. 

 

“Oh, Keith! You didn’t say you were coming in.” 

A familiar voice enters the room. Keith tenses. His eyes shoot wide. He grips the magazine tightly and holds it closer to his body, hoping Shiro will just walk away. His footsteps are soft on the carpet as he approaches. Keith’s heart sinks.

 

“J… just returning some equipment.” He explains. 

“We were admiring Lance McClain’s _Sexiest man alive_ issue.” Thace grins. He snatches the magazine from Keith and hands it over to Shiro with a light chuckle.

“It’s pretty interesting.” 

 

“Whoa ho ho!” Shiro exclaims. He laughs and stares down at the images with a delighted grin. 

“These are _hot_! Lance isn’t messing around.” He smirks. “Keith, you should add these to your secret collection.”

“Shut up.” Keith groans and kicks him in the foot. Shiro barely notices as he continues to turn the pages. His eyebrows dramatically raise at the ones where Lance is being held from behind… but he does not say anything. He finally reaches the final image. His dark brows crinkle together. 

 

“Don’t you uh…” Thace steps in close and looks over his shoulder. “Don’t you think this guy here looks like Keith?” He quietly asks. 

Shiro is quiet. Keith’s stomach drops to his toes. He swallows and it feels like it falls five feet. 

 

Shiro finally chuckles. He shakes his head. 

“Not possible. Look how much fun they’re having.” He points to the image, pulling focus to Lance’s bright smile. “Keith hates fun. He couldn’t possibly make Lance laugh like this.”

“Ah haha of course.” Thace nods. “You better watch yourself, Keith. There’s some fancy model out there with the same hair cut as you.” He punches Keith’s shoulder. 

“It was my signature look first.” Keith smirks. Thace throws his head back and barks out a laugh. 

“It sure was.” He pats Keith’s back before he exits the surveillance room. Keith breathes a sigh of relief when he is sure he’s out of earshot. 

 

Shiro suddenly moves in close, brandishing the magazine in Keith’s face. He points to the anonymous man’s arm.

“This is the scar from when Miffy bit you in 8th grade, what the _fuck,_ Keith?!” He hisses. 

Keith groans loudly. He fists his hands in his long hair and slumps forward. He hides his face in embarrassment. 

“Do you think anyone else knows?” He mumbles. Shiro looks at all the images and tuts.

“They can’t prove anything, but man…” He sighs. “You need to watch yourself.”

He winces as he looks again at the images of Lance being held from behind. Keith’s arms possessively hold Lance close, with hands that curiously wander to obscene territories. Shiro shakes his head.  
“Damn son.”

“The booked model didn’t show up so I helped out.” Keith growls. He tugs the magazine out of Shiro’s hands. 

“And I’m sure you protested the entire time.”

“Shut up.”

 

…

 

Keith goes directly home with no more duties or appointments to take care of. He dares to go online and is horrified to see #sexiestmanalive trending. Lance’s photos cover the internet in high definition glory. 

 

Keith sleeps in a panicked sweat.

 

…

 

The article is still trending when he wakes up in the morning. He is urgently called by Coran for a sudden television interview and is over at Lance’s apartment by 8 am. Lance is dressed simply in beige chinos and a blue, paisley button up. He wears a sour expression. 

 

“It’s a great opportunity! Also it looks really strange if you don’t talk about this shoot at all. Like you’re ashamed of it or something.” Corn explains. 

“I’m not _ashamed._ It’s just not that interesting to talk about. Slav told me to do something and I just did it.” Lance shrugs. 

 

Ah so this interview is specifically for the _Sexiest Man Alive_ article. Great. Brilliant. Keith isn’t nervous at all. 

 

“Well these producers seem very curious. You should at least address all the buzz around it.” Coran offers. Lance chews the inside of his cheek. 

“Alright.”

 

…

 

Keith drives Lance to the studio and feels his stress spike when he sees what show he will be appearing on. It is a day time talk-show hosted by a panel of old, opinionated, ladies _for_ old, opinionated, ladies. Keith can’t help but feel he is offering his client up to the slaughter when Lance takes his seat next to the hosts. He expects their jaws to unhinge at any moment and swallow Lance whole. 

 

“We’re now joined by rightfully crowned ‘Sexiest Man Alive’, Lance McClain!” The lead host introduces and the live audience goes wild. Lance smiles and waves. 

“It’s a pleasure to have you on, I think this is your first time on the show, isn’t it?”

“Yes! Yes, you could say I am losing my virginity today.” Lance smirks and the group of hosts descend into a fit of giggles. 

 

“I’m sorry, we will get to the questions soon, but I just need to say…” A host holds her hands up as if in prayer. The wrinkles around her mouth pull as she smiles. 

“Thank you… _so_ much for these photos.”

The crowd laughs and all the other hosts knowingly nod. One fans herself.

“When I saw those photos of you I rushed for the news stand outside and immediately bought an issue. You looked so good!”

“I gasped when I saw them.”

“Me too!”

“My daughter is a huge fan, so I actually saw her copy, and was kind of worried I’d have to confiscate it because you were so sexual. And when I say confiscate I mean… keep it for myself.” 

The hosts cackle again. Keith’s mouth pulls into a tight frown. They continue pawing over Lance for a good five minutes until they finally get to some questions. Lance blushes quietly in his chair as he’s never given the chance to respond to their ogling. 

 

“Anyway, I’m sure we’re all dying to know what the vision was for the shoot. Was there a certain theme that you and the photographer were going for?”

Lance blinks at the question. He then innocently shrugs and smiles. 

“Uhhhh… sexy?” Everyone chuckles. 

“I feel like everyone thinks this was some elaborately choreographed performance. It wasn’t!” Lance implores. 

“It was literally just me showing up, and then Slav yelling ‘Be sexy!’ before pulling more clothes off of me for an hour.” He laughs and everyone chuckles. “That was really it.”

 

“Well was it always planned for you to pose with another man? That seems to be what has elevated this article into somewhat of a….” The host taps her chin, searching for the right word. 

“Controversy?” She tries. Lance wrinkles his nose at the word. 

“Uh, kind of.” Lance licks his lips. “I was _supposed_ to pose with Lotor initially, but he wasn’t able to make it.”

 

Keith huffs. _That’s an interesting was of saying ‘Never bothered to show up.’._

 

“So we happened to have another male model and we just kind of improvised.” Lance explains nonchalantly. Like he lets strange men fondle his chest for cameras every day. 

“Were you ever uncomfortable with it?”

Lance openly scoffs at that question. Keith is surprised to see him slip, but the hosts keep their composure at his dismissal. 

“No, no. I wasn’t uncomfortable with the other model at all. I _was_ very nervous about taking my clothes off.” He laughs.

“Really?” The women gasp. 

“Oh yeah! I was super nervous.” Lance smiles. “But the other model, he’s super cool and attractive by the way. It’s a shame you don’t get to see his face. But he was the one who really helped me out and encouraged me.” A fondness softens his features. Keith’s stomach turns warm. 

“And when I say ‘encouraged me’, I mean he pulled me aside and said ‘what the hell are you doing?! You’re super hot goddamit! Now take off your shirt’” Lance does his best to mock Keith’s serious and impatient tone. Keith rolls his eyes, but the audience seems to love it. 

 

“Has your family seen the photos?”

“Oh god!” Lance collapses back. His hand rubs at the bridge of his nose. “I hadn’t even considered that. God…”

The hosts and audience alike laugh at Lance’s realisation. 

“What do you think your mother will say?” A host asks. Lance rights himself in his chair and sighs. 

“Oh god. Probably… probably something like: LANCE!” He barks. The audience jumps in their seats. When the shock wears off they laugh at the stark contrast in Lance’s voice and pose. 

“Lance! Porque estas desnudo? Ya todos pueden mirar que flaco eres y qué necesitas comer más. ¿Por qué no vienes a la casa Ahorita? Cuídate mijo.” He rattles off in Spanish. 

 

Keith stares in open mouthed shock. His mouth then contorts into a wide smile and butterflies bat against his ribcage. He holds a hand up to his mouth, trying to cover his smile, but it does little good. Lance’s gaze flits over and he stares for a palpable moment. He blushes. He stares long enough that he completely misses the taken aback expressions of the hosts. 

 

“O-Oh! Your mother speaks Spanish?” One squeaks.

Lance is snapped out of his gawking. 

“Most Cubans do, yeah.” He laughs. The hosts try to laugh, but there’s still a trace of surprise and unease to their faces. 

“Oh you’re Cuban? I never knew that.” One smiles politely. 

“Of course.” He shrugs. “That’s why I’m so handsome.” He winks. The hosts seem to be distracted enough by their swooning that they choose to move on.

 

“Well we are just learning so much about you today!” One announces in her brash voice and pats Lance on the knee. 

“But I feel like we really need to address the elephant in the room here.” She side eyes all her other hosts and they erupt in a chorus of “Mmmmmhhhmmmm”. 

 

Lance, understandably, looks confused and nervous. 

 

“This shoot is rather unconventional, so many have wondered if you were trying to make some kind of statement about yourself with it.”

Lance’s eyes narrow.

“I don’t follow.”

“Uh what….what she means is-!” Another host, with more confidence in her voice picks up the question. 

“People have speculated that this may be a coming out shoot for you? Is there any truth to that?” She asks. 

 

Lance stares blankly. Keith can see the gears in his head whirring, wondering what is the most amicable way to respond. His mouth is pulled in a taut line. 

 

“Uh, like I explained before…” He huffs a laugh and looks down. He crosses his legs. “The shoot was completely improvised. It has nothing to do with my orientation.”

“So you’re not gay?” Someone bluntly asks. Keith turns a venomous violet glare on her. Lance mimics his expression.

“I’ve dated some of the most beautiful women in the world. I think they’d be very insulted if I lied about what our relationship was.” He smiles at the end, but there seems to be an unsaid threat. Coran nervously chews his fingernails. 

 

“It’s been interesting because this issue has sold better than any other this year, and performed higher than many other of the _Sexiest Man Alive_ annuals, so congratulations for that.”

“Thank you.” Lance nods. The mood shifts to something more pleasant. 

“But it’s largely believed that this has sold so well because a large proportion of gay men have been buying it. Do you have anything to say to that?”

“Uhhhhh…” Lance thinks. A sly grin emerges. “They have excellent taste.”

Keith almost applauds. 

 

…

 

Despite the tense atmosphere that arose when they questioned Lance about his sexuality, Coran congratulates Lance on a job well done. He compliments his ability to manoeuvre out of questions that could lead to a public relations incident. Lance just hums. 

 

He is quiet on the way home. It’s only one in the afternoon and he looks drained. Keith looks over his shoulder at a stop light. 

“Are you ok?” He asks quietly. “They really went after the personal questions today.”

“Yeah I’m ok.” Lance chuckles humourlessly. “It’s been a while since I’ve been that close under the microscope.”

“Do you regret it?” Keith asks. He can’t help the guilt that’s been swirling in his head since those questions started. Lance looks confused. 

“Do you regret doing the shoot… with me? Do you think I should have stayed out of it?” Keith keeps his eyes on the road as he drives. 

 

Lance is quiet as he leans forwards. He gently touches Keith’s elbow.

“No.” He smiles. “Not at all.”

Keith chances a look back. His eyes soften with relief. 

 

Keith walks Lance up to his apartment and it feels odd to say goodbye so early in the day. Keith should be excited to get some time to himself, but he does not have that same desire lately. He looks forward to days off less and less. 

 

“Feels weird.” Lance says his thoughts out loud. Keith chuckles. 

“For me to go this early?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s alright. I’m sure you can relax better without a nag like me around.” Keith smirks.

“You’re not a nag.”

“Maybe so,” Keith sighs. He steps back through the front door. “You should get an early night. You’ve got a technical rehearsal with the Holt’s tomorrow, remember?”

Lance beams and nods.

“Oh yeah!” He laughs. “You’re coming to that, right?”

“Of course. I have to be with you in all public spaces.”

“Mmmm” Lance grins. He licks his lips and moves his eyes to the floor. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“See you.” Keith rocks back, then remembers something. He catches the front door with the tips of his fingers.

 

“Oh! And Lance?”

Lance looks over his shoulder with his eyebrows raised.

“Hm?”

Keith sheepishly smiles, but he does not let his gaze drop. 

“I’m proud of you.” 

 

Lance’s stomach warms. His limbs feel lighter.

“What for?”

“For openly mentioning your heritage. I know you said you were discouraged from doing that.” Keith beams.

“I’m really proud of you.”

 

Lance mutters a thank you and a goodbye. He manages to make it to the couch before his knees finally collapse under him. 

 

…

 

Keith drives Lance to the theatre for his technical rehearsal, while Lance bounces in his seat and sings loudly to the radio. Keith asks him to quiet down, but Lance explains that he has to warm up his voice. 

“I’m worried you’ll strain your voice with all that shrieking.”

“I’m just testing my limits!” Lance giggles. 

 

They arrive and walk into the darkened theatre. Matt and Pidge are counting out choreography under the bright lights of the stage, while the stage manager runs back and forth behind them. The director sits in the audience with his production manager, taking notes. Keith can hear people up in the lighting box discussing cues, as the lights on stage flicker aggressively between spotlights and yellow gels. 

 

“C’mon!” Lance drags Keith by the hand into the mostly empty audience. He sees Hunk in a middle row and takes up a spot next to him. Keith is tugged down into a seat. 

 

“Oh hey guys,” Hunk whispers.

“How’s it going? They look good.” Lance nods to the siblings on stage, hitting their marks in unison. 

“Yeah good! Some issues with mics at first, but they seem to be gone now.”

 

They watch as music floods the theatre and Pidge and Matt snap from tired looking young adults into spunky, energised, pop siblings. They are only dressed in yoga pants, sneakers, and loose tank tops, but it’s easy for Keith to imagine how captivating they will look with their moussed hair and sparkling outfits. Matt sings the first verse and sounds confident live. Pidge joins him for the chorus, then takes over. She performs a series of spring backs and round offs during the song’s bridge. A trademark of hers. Lance whoops loudly.

 

They finish the song with a pleasant harmonisation and synchronised pose. Lance stands up and loudly applauds and whistles. Pidge and Matt squint into the dark theatre. 

“Oh my god, Lance.” Matt is the first to identify him and laughs into his still turned on microphone. 

“Shut the fuck up, Lance.” Pidge smirks. Their choreographer turns around to look behind him, then quickly turns back to mutter something to Matt. 

 

“Oh actually, Lance, can you come up here? We’ll get you miced up then go over your parts now.” Matt asks into his mic.

“Yeah alright.” Lance loudly calls out. He leaps over the theatre seats until he reaches the front of the stage, where the sound technician waits for him.

 

He slips a battery pack and belt around Lance’s waist and tapes the microphone to the side of his cheek. He turns on a switch and the lights on Lance’s battery turn green. He flashes four fingers up to someone sitting in the tech box. 

 

“Test one, two. Test one, two, three. This is Lance McClain wishing he remembered to eat some breakfast. Test one, two.” Lance’s voice crackles to life, before it sounds smooth and loud over the sound system. 

 

Keith watches with interest as Lance takes to the stage and picks up his choreography quickly. He wonders if it might be recycled from an old tour. Lance sings acapella smoothly as he counts out his steps, and Keith’s eyes widen. It’s a new experience hearing Lance’s songs stripped to just his voice. 

 

“Why do you look surprised?” Hunk chuckles from his seat. “You know he’s a singer.”

“Yeah it’s just…” Keith laughs. Lance’s voice rings clearly, soaring easily over high notes before comfortably moving back to a lower range. He sounds wonderful. 

 

“His songs are so over produced you know? I thought he might not be that good at singing and it was just autotune.” Keith explains. Hunk nods.

“Ah nah, he’s pretty good in reality. That’s mostly just his producers adding all that electronica.” He shrugs. “It’s fun, but I do wish more people got to hear him like this.”

Keith hums in agreement. He watches as Lance finishes singing and counts out the entire number’s choreography. His long legs seem to glide across the stage. 

 

Keith wonders how focussed he must look, because Hunk clears his throat to signify he is about to speak. Keith turns towards him. 

“I uh…” Hunk’s voice drops to a low whisper. It’s barely audible over the thumping of feet and Lance’s counting. 

“I saw the _Sexiest Man Alive_ photos.” His expression is unreadable. 

 

Bass thumps through the speakers and the backing to Lance’s song begins to play. Lance smiles brightly under the spotlight, oozing charisma as he begins to sing and go through his choreography. 

“And?” Keith keeps his eyes on Lance.

“I know the other guy in those photos is you, Keith. You need to be careful.” Hunk warns. Keith sighs. He tears his attention away from Lance for just a moment. 

“You think Kolivan has seen it?”

“Oh I’m not talking about that.” Hunk laughs.

 

Keith’s attention is pulled back towards Lance as he hits a high note gracefully. He stands confidently, eyes closed, and singing out into the auditorium with passion. He holds it. Then the rhythm starts up again. Lance jumps into a low stance and swings his hips. He tosses his short hair carelessly, then looks up into the audience. He winks at Keith as he shuffles to his next mark. Keith’s laugh bubbles in his chest. 

“What are you talking about then?” He sighs. His eyes are still locked on his client on the stage, enthusiastically performing some complicated footwork. 

 

Hunk looks between the two with concern. His lips purse as he takes in Keith’s open expression. 

 

“You need to be careful you don’t fall for him.”

 

…

 

Keith tries not to let Hunk’s words haunt him for the rest of the day. He drives a very excitable Lance home, who seems to have difficulty staying in his seat. He’s sweaty and has borrowed Keith’s jacket to stop himself getting chilled in the car’s air conditioning. He brushes his damp hair back with his fingers. 

“Keith! You’ll be with me backstage won’t you?” He perches on the edge of his seat and pokes Keith in the elbow.

“If you’d like me to be, yes.”

“I want you to be.” Lance confirms. “And you gotta watch me! You’ll watch me, right?”

Keith chuckles. Lance’s demands are oddly endearing.

“Why do you want me to watch you?”

“Because I want to know if you think I’m any good or not.” Lance leans against Keith’s seat. Keith hums.

“I watched you today and I was impressed.”

“So just imagine how amazing I’ll be when it’s the real deal.” Lance smirks. 

 

…

 

Keith has a rare day off before the day of the big concert. He finds himself bored, but appreciates a day off from dodging questions about the infamous photoshoot. Luckily the buzz around it seems to be subsiding, so Keith can finally stop living in fear that he’ll be recognised. 

 

This still does not mean that people have stopped talking about Lance or  have lost interest in him. They have merely moved on from discussing those particular photos. Keith is now more wary than ever before of how much scrutiny Lance is under and mentally notes that they should not go to any public lunch or dinner places for a while. 

 

Keith buys his groceries and notes that Lance is on the cover of no less than three gossip magazines. Keith’s eyes narrow at the ridiculous headlines. 

 

_Ex-lover Nyma begs Lance to come back!_

 

_Playboy Lance teases interest in men!_

 

_Lance! Single and loving it!_

 

Keith thinks they are disgusting. He wonders how these magazines can legally publish such lies. He wonders how they are allowed to use his image without his consent. Acid rises in his throat. They do not know a damn thing about Lance McClain.

 

And Keith catches himself short. In the middle of the dairy aisle, he freezes, his lactose free yoghurt stinging his palm. 

 

He had always been under the impression that Lance was a bit of a ladies man, but in the month that Lance has been under his care, Keith has not seen him flirt with _anyone._ Not even once.

 

Had Keith been wrong about so much? Or was Lance just going through a particularly busy spell, so he hasn’t been able to pursue anything?

 

Keith thinks about having to escort Lance to dates and it makes him anxious. He is not sure how he will handle that situation. It’s selfish, but he hopes he will never have to. 

 

…

 

The evening of the Holt’s concert arrives quickly, and Keith finds a thrum of nervousness coursing through him when he picks Lance up from his apartment. He’s wearing tight, black, pleather pants, with a good amount of stretch to them, and a tank top that dips extremely low at the front and back. His collarbones and the cleavage between his pectorals is clearly visible. A silver cross with a heavy chain swings from his neck, accompanied by several thin, leather necklaces. Matching leather bracelets decorate Lance’s slender wrists, and is there glitter on his cheeks?

 

“You ready?” Lance is the one to ask. Keith blinks.

“Of course _I’m_ ready.” He laughs. “Are _you?_ ”

 

Lance is already in the elevator when he shouts:

“Yup!”

 

They arrive at the theatre early and enter through a back entrance. Keith sees that people have already formed a large cue out the front, hours before they will be let in. There is security on all entrances, but Keith is sure to stick close to Lance until they are safe on stage. 

 

Pidge and Matt are already in their costumes and are testing out their sound levels. The lights on stage flash as the lighting technicians go through their cues. The theatre is abuzz with people setting lights, props, and dancers blocking out their marks. A frazzled looking stage manager marches around giving directions. 

 

Lance has his microphone strapped on and tucks the battery pack under his belt. He does a few checks, and when he’s giving the all clear, mutes it. He goes into the back dressing rooms to warm up with Pidge. Matt plays scales on an old piano and they sing up and down. Keith has to smirk at the contrast of Pidge in her green, pvc, two-piece top and a-line skirt combo, against Lance and his  edgy black, leather pants and brown tank top. Especially when Keith has gotten a better handle on their personalities. Pidge looks like a bubblegum pop princess, when Keith knows her natural state is holed up in her room wearing three-day-old underwear and playing video games. Here her hair is sprayed with glitter and her wire framed glasses are replaced with trendy horn-rims. 

 

They warm up their voices with scales and bring in the back up dancers for a group warm up. There’s a feeling of camaraderie between everyone as the choreographer leads them in jumping jacks, grape vines, and stretches. They end their warm up with a large group hug and put their hands in the middle. Matt and Lance yell in unison:

“What team?!”

And everyone responds

“Wildcats!” with big silly grins on their faces. 

 

Keith does not understand, but he appreciates the enthusiasm. 

 

Without an opening act, Pidge and Matt take to the stage immediately. The audience roars with applause and confetti canons fire as they launch straight into one of their songs. Keith and Lance wait in the wings, watching every flip and pirouette. It would make more sense to wait in the dressing room, as Lance is only needed during the last two songs, but he insists on watching and supporting his friends. He mouths all the words and claps at every number. He pats Matt on the back as he runs off stage for a quick costume change and drink, whilst Pidge holds the audiences attention.

 

“You’re doing great!” Lance praises. He holds Matt’s shorts open and kneels, letting Matt use his shoulders for balance as he steps into them. 

“Yeah?” He whips off his collared shirt and vest. Lance throws him his white t-shirt and holds his varsity jacket up for him to slip into. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s really good. Fantastic energy.”

“Ah, I thought i was flat during that bridge.” Matt sighs.

“No, no! You’re too hard on yourself.” Lance hands him his water bottle and he takes three big gulps. 

“Thanks, Lance.” Matt nods.

 

He runs on stage to a thunderous applause. Lance claps along with the audience. A new bass line comes in from the band and Lance laughs loudly. He swings his hips and tosses his hair.

“I really love this song.” He says in Keith’s ear, hoping it gets over the sound of the music. He grabs Keith by the waist and tries to pull him in close. 

“Dance with me?”

“Oh my god.” Keith rolls his eyes and pushes the man away. Lance giggles and keeps a hold on Keith’s hands. He smirks as he gradually cha-chas closer. Keith tries not to smile. He fails. 

 

He fails as Lance presses their bodies together and wraps an arm around his waist. He fails as Lance intertwines their fingers together and he begins to lead them in a shuffle polka around the wings of the stage. Keith stops fighting and tries to pick up the steps in earnest. Lance allows some distance between them as he picks up the height and speed of his steps. 

 

“One and two and three and four” He counts. It’s sweaty between their palms. The song reaches its bridge and Lance slows the pace. He dips Keith, who stiffens and clings wide eyed to his arms, then spins him clumsily under his arm. With a flick of his wrist, Keith humours him and spins back towards his chest. Lance laughs before he wraps his arms around his waist from behind. 

 

“Do you remember your dancing lessons in Cuba?” His lips barely graze Keith’s ear. 

“I remember being tugged around a room and laughed at.” Keith smirks. 

“Well when you have two left feet you deserve to be laughed at.” Lance smirks against the back of Keith’s head and sways. Keith follows his rhythm and hums. They do this for the rest of the chorus. As another verse starts Lance begins to pick up some footwork again. He spins Keith around so they are facing each other once more and leads him in what can only be described as a shitty charleston, complete with jazz hands. 

 

Keith’s sides hurt from laughing by the end of the song. Lance is panting.

“Thanks for helping me warm up.” He wheezes. Keith struggles to control his breathing. He’s still grinning when he looks up at Lance.

“You’re such an idiot.” But there’s no animosity to it.

 

The crowd applauds the end of the song. Lance steals himself. 

“You’re on soon.” Keith looks over at the set list. Only one more number before Lance goes on. 

“Yup.” Lance sighs. 

“You nervous?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. Lance moves to the back wall to lean against. He closes his eyes and breathes. 

“You’ll be great. I know it.” Keith joins him and whispers. Lance smiles. His eyes are still closed.

“Thanks. That helps.”

 

There is applause and the stage goes quiet. Matt steps forward into a single spotlight.

 

“We wanted to thank you all for coming out tonight and raising so much money for this cause. We appreciate you spending your hard earned cash to come and see us, and while you guys might think it’s worth it… we wanted to make this night extra special for you.”

There are murmurs through the crowd. 

“We have a very good friend and when we told him what we were doing, he couldn’t wait to help out.”

“He’s very good, a bit of an up and comer really? You guys might recognise him? Please welcome him as he comes and performs for you.” Pidge explains. There’s a tepid applause. 

“He’s a bit shy, so you’ve gotta clap a lot louder than that!” She cries. The applause marginally increases. 

 

A piano starts up. Some familiar chords ring out.

 

“Kiss for good luck?” Lance turns to look at Keith.

“Wha-?” Keith wheezes. Lance grins. 

“Kidding. You should see your face.”

 

He walks to the edge of the wing. A drum line starts and he begins to sing.

 

He sings before he is visible, but when he struts out of the wing and into the light of the stage, the reaction is immediate. 

 

The cheers are deafening. The once cautious applause now storms the stage like a tidal wave. Lance is radiant in its downpour. His voice rings out and his smile is dazzling under the bright lights. His feet snap expertly to his choreography, as he’s accompanied by a line of back up dancers. The screams do not subside until 30 seconds into the song. 

 

He takes Keith’s breath away. 

 

Lance was right. Rehearsal is nothing compared to this. Lance is electrified and dazzling to watch. He moves with a graceful ease, captivating even as he simply walks forwards and bends his knee to the beat. He hits a provocative line and grabs himself. Keith’s mouth fills with saliva. 

 

He stays out there until his song finishes with thunderous applause. He bows politely, then joins the Holts for their finale. He’s more relaxed, but still entrancing as he sings backing vocals. He pulls a pair of dark sunglasses from his pocket and wears them when he takes over a rap breakdown. Keith chuckles and taps his foot. The performance ends with a powerful harmonisation and a dazzling display of lasers and confetti. The curtain falls. 

 

Lance and the Holts run off through one wing, while the backup dancers move off the other side. Pidge and Lance share what looks like a secret handshake as they walk, and he high fives Matt. As soon as Lance enters the wings he looks for his real target. He finds Keith standing near the exit and torpedoes towards him. Keith is knocked back as Lance launches in for a tight hug. He feels his sweat through his tank top. 

 

“Did you watch?!” He asks. He reminds Keith of a puppy, wide eyed with excitement and seeking approval.

“Yes! Yes! You were excellent. I told you!” Keith laughs and lightly pushes him off. 

“Now we’ve gotta wait for some of the crowds to clear before we leave, ok?” 

 

Lance barely hears, too busy brimming from his successful performance. He turns back to the Holts.

“You guys wanna hang out after this? Wanna get some ice cream or something?”

“What? Lance I’m exhausted.” Matt sighs.

“I have an exam tomorrow. Just go home.” Pidge scoffs.

Lance is still bouncing up and down. 

 

Hunk enters the stage area after watching the whole thing from the Holts’ dressing room. He elbows Keith. 

“You watch him. He’s like a toddler. All hyped up now.”

“I can see that.”

“Give him some warm milk.” Hunk grins. 

 

…

 

Lance does not come down during the entire drive home. He asks Keith his opinion on every minute detail. How he sounded, how he looked, how his dancing was. He harasses Keith over everything. Keith thinks it is cute… though incessant.

 

“Stay with me,” Lance whines when they reach his front door.

“What?” Keith groans. 

“C’mon stay with me! We’ll play some video games or something, just hang out. I’m way too hyped to sleep.”

“Run on the treadmill for a while if you have so much energy.” Keith offers. Lance grimaces at that suggestion. 

“Why won’t you hang out with meeeeee? Don’t you enjoy my compaaaannnnyyyy?” Lance slowly melts against the doorframe, until he’s kneeling on the floor. Keith is unamused at his dramatics. 

“This is ridiculous.” He huffs. “I have to go now. I am tired.”

“Fine.” lance groans and flops backwards. He starfishes on the floor. 

“Goodnight, Lance.”

“Goodnight, Keith.”

 

…

 

A piercing noise sounds at 2:27am.

 

Keith frantically kicks his legs, untucking himself from his blanket cocoon, as he looks for the source of the noise. 

 

It’s his phone. But it’s not a call. And it isn’t his usual marimba alarm.

 

His blurry vision focuses and he feels cold. 

 

It’s Lance’s panic alarm.

 

“Shit,” Keith opens the coordinates in his maps application and searches around the room for clothes. Any clothes. Trousers, t-shirt, loafers and no socks. Great. Fine. He sprints to his car and stares at the location on the map. The marker blips from a familiar spot in West Hollywood and for one second the sea of panic fades from Keith’s vision as confusion takes over. 

 

Keith knows that area. Keith knows that area really well, and Lance has almost no business being there. Maybe there’s some attraction he never noticed before? Or maybe something new opened?

 

Keith stops his speculation as he drives into the night. He speeds on the familiar open roads and takes his corners to sharply. Just ten minutes until arrival. He white knuckles his steering wheel. 

 

He pulls up to the club district in West Hollywood in a sweat. It looks just like how he remembers it. Neon signs advertise the latest drink specials at the gay bars and drag queens stand in back alleys for their smoke breaks. He rolls past seedy hotels, and a shelter for homeless LGBT+ youth until he comes to a stop at an all too familiar door, painted in faded rainbow and with a glittery sign boasting cheap prices. Lance’s coordinates lead here.

 

“Oh fuck.” Keith ditches his car in a back alley and runs for the hotel, dodging drunk boys making moves and pressing against each other along the curb. Keith feels a wave of nostalgia as he runs through the crowds. The smell of gin and vodka are pungent in the air. 

 

He finally makes it to the hotel. He marches into the reception with determination. Lance’s coordinates ping louder. He’s close. He’s here. But there’s no way to tell in which room, and Keith knows there are four floors to this place. Thankfully there is a trace of luck sitting behind the counter. 

 

The man seated at the reception wears an old, brown, beanie, and his nose is long and pointed. He has high cheekbones and his broad shoulders are barely covered by a pleather, blue, vest. Keith slams his hands on the counter. 

“Rolo!” He breathes. Rolo snaps to attention. 

 

“Holy sh- Keith? Keith?” His disbelief turns into a wide smile. “Oh man, it’s been ages! I haven’t seen _you_ since I caught you in the bathroom stalls at Micky’s.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah” Keith has no time to reminisce. “Rolo, listen, I need a huge favour.”

“A favour?” He hisses and twirls some keys around his fingers. “I dunno”

“Rolo, you fucking owe me!” Keith growls. “Remember when I took care of your drunk ass and didn’t let you go home with Pete-he-really-likes-feet?”

“Augh, alright.” Rolo concedes. 

“I need to know which room one of your guests is in.”

 

Rolo blinks in disbelief. He then leans forward, so no one but Keith can hear him. 

“Keith, that’s illegal! I can’t give you _any_ rooms our guests are in!”

“Rolo, do you know what I do?” Keith narrows his eyes. “Do you remember how I make my money?” His voice is low and threatening. 

“I’m not here for pleasure, I’m here for work. And I _need_ to find my boss right now.”

 

Rolo nods, realisation crossing his face. He licks his lips. 

“Shit, who is it?”

“I can’t tell you if you don’t already know. You don’t have anyone super famous here right now?”

“No! No, at least no one in need of your services.” Rolo thinks. 

“What’s he look like?”

“Uh… hot? Tan? He _might_ be blonde?”

“Might?”

“He has a wig that he sometimes wears.”

Rolo abruptly snaps his fingers. 

“I know him.”

 

Keith blinks incredulously.

“Whoa, what? Really? How?”

“Oh I can clock a wig from two miles away.” His smile is smug. “They’re on the third floor. Room 37. It’s on the right.”

“Oh thank you. Thank you so much.”

Relief floods through Keith. He’ll have to thank his old friend properly, but for now there is still a pinging in his pocket. 

 

No elevators. Keith takes the stairs two at a time until he reaches the third floor. Room 37 is around the corner. Keith hesitates at the old door. A ‘do not disturb’ sign hangs from the door knob and it makes Keith’s heart leap into his throat. He takes three slow breaths to try and get his breathing under control. He’s never been good at making plans. He’s always tried to rush into things guns blazing. He knocks. 

 

“Uh housekeeping. Reception sent me with fresh towels.”

He waits. The room is silent. Keith cannot decide whether that is good or bad. 

 

“Housekeeping?”

 

More silence. 

 

Guns blazing it is then. 

Keith bashes more forcefully. 

“This is hotel security! If you do not open this door by the count of three I _will_ break in!”

Keith steps back. 

“One!… Two!… Th-“

“Alright! Alright!” A skinny, young man with dark hair and fair skin opens the door. He stands in only his boxer briefs. Keith brushes past him. 

 

His eyes move wildly around the dark room trying to adjust to the light. A pair of leather pants and a brown tank top are scattered across the floor. There’s a cross necklace on the nightstand. Keith recognises the clothing instantly, but he does not see their owner.

“Hey, are you even security?”

“Shut up.” Keith darts towards the bathroom. The door is closed and there is a sliver of light coming out underneath. Keith knocks. 

 

“Lance? Lance are you in there? It’s me, Keith.” Keith is soft and gentle. He pays no mind to the half naked man standing behind him. 

“He won’t come out.” The other man tuts. Keith ignores him. 

“Lance, I’m coming in now. I’m coming to get you.”

 

He opens the door. Slowly. Just the smallest amount until he can get himself through the opening. 

“Lance,” The name falls from his lips in relief.

 

Lance sits on the floor folded in on himself. He’s just in his briefs. His whole body trembles and his blonde wig is now askew. 

“Oh, Lance.” Keith closes the door behind him and falls forwards. He rubs Lance’s shoulder soothingly, before stroking his cheek. It’s stained with dark eyeshadow and glitter. Even Keith would have difficulty recognising him with all this makeup on. 

“Lance, I’m gonna get you out of here, ok? I’m going to take you home now.”

Lance nods. 

 

Keith scoops him up easily in his arms. Lance curls into his touch immediately, chasing the warmth of his body. He carries Lance through the doorway bridal style.

 

“Hand me his clothes.” Keith demands of the other man. He nervously runs through the room, gathering up Lance’s things, and hands them to Keith’s waiting hand. Lance grips around his neck tighter so he does not fall. 

“Are you his boyfriend? I swear he didn’t tell me… Look I didn’t-!”

“Fuck off.” Keith spits. He would kick the other man square in the chest if he didn’t think that might get him charged with assault. He might do it anyway.

 

He holds Lance close and carries him down to the lobby. Lance weakly sobs into his neck the whole time, hiding his face. Keith feels the wetness soak into his collar.

“I’m sorry.” Lance whimpers.

“What? Oh no, Lance. Don’t be. You did the right thing.” Keith coos. He wishes he had a free hand to stroke Lance’s tear stained face. Instead, he just touches their foreheads together.

 

“Holy shit,” Rolo exhales and runs over when they enter the lobby. He gets in close. 

“Is he ok? Do I need to call the cops?”

“No!” Lance whines. He still hides his face against Keith. 

Keith purses his lips, but does not say anything. He needs to get out of here without making more of a scene. Rolo looks concerned. He and Keith share a glance. He steps in close and keeps his voice low. 

 

“If you need me to make a statement to the police I will.” He offers solemnly. “You still have my number, yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks, Rolo. For everything.”

“No problem, man.”

 

…

 

Keith tucks Lance into the back seat of his car. Lance avoids his eyes as he takes back his clothing and weakly pulls his shirt on, but does not bother with anything else.

 

The drive home is silent except for Lance’s occasional sniffing. 

 

Keith parks in the apartment building’s garage and turns in his seat.

“Can you walk?” He asks. Lance nods.

Even though they are in a secure location now, Keith keeps Lance tucked into his side. He wraps an arm protectively around his waist until they reach the apartment. He guides Lance to his bedroom. 

“Here, sit.” He gently pushes Lance on to the bed. He is listless and is easily pushed and pulled to Keith’s whims. His eyes look clouded. 

 

Keith runs into the ensuite bathroom and reemerges with a warm, wet, washcloth. He pulls off Lance’s shirt and slides off his wig. 

“Blonde really isn’t your colour.” He smiles. Lance is unreceptive. It hurts Keith to see. 

 

He takes the washcloth and kneels in front of Lance. He takes his chin gently in his fingers and begins to wipe at his face, taking off the running, dark, eyeliner and glitter that stains his tan cheeks. Keith hums, pleased, when Lance’s skin looks clear. He does one more pass over his eyes. 

 

“Do you want me to go to the police station with you tomorrow? I promise we can keep this quiet.”

“No.” Lance’s voice is stronger than Keith expects. His refusal hurts. He takes Lance’s face in between his hands and forces Lance to look at him. Lance’s eyes widen at the anguish on Keith’s face. 

“Lance! If he hurt you-!”

“He didn’t-!” Lance bursts. He then sighs and tugs himself away from Keith’s touch. He closes his eyes and bites his lip.

“He didn’t do anything I didn’t want.” Lance confesses quietly. It’s clear from the way his eyes wrinkle and how his mouth goes tight that it causes him great pain to say. Keith takes his hand. He waits for Lance to summon his courage.

 

“I went out. I had some drinks and picked him up at one of the bars.” He recounts robotically. 

“We made out against some dumpster and then _I_ took him to that hotel. It was _my_ idea.” He opens his eyes. 

“But right as things were progressing I just…” His hands reach for something he cannot grasp. “Panicked.”

Keith squeezes his hand tightly. He tries not to let his confusion show on his face. He has to be here for Lance now. He can deal with his own feelings later. 

 

“He seemed kind of confused and pissed, so not a stellar guy.” Lance forces a chuckle. “But he didn’t assault me or anything.”

 

Keith can’t laugh with hm. He can’t find the humour anywhere. Instead he stands, and to Lance’s shock, wraps him up tightly in his arms. He holds him for a long time. Lance feels like crying again. 

 

“Jesus, Lance.” He sighs. He rests his head on top of Lance’s. “What were you thinking?”

Lance shrugs. 

“Have you done this before?” Keith lets go. He cards his fingers through Lance’s short hair, feeling the last voice in his head that is telling him to keep his distance drown in an overwhelming sea of worry. Lance shrugs again.

“Yeah?” He squeaks. “But never this far.”

Keith tuts. His hands move to Lance’s chin and tip his gaze up. 

“We’ll talk about this in the morning.” He smiles kindly. “But you need to sleep now.”

“Stay.” Lance grabs his wrist. Keith worries his bottom lip. “Please.”

 

Keith answers instantly. 

 

“Of course.”

 

…

 

Lance wakes in the morning and the first thing he notices is the warm weight next to him. His hand is wrapped up in someone else’s and something tickles his nose. 

 

Lance opens his eyes and immediately chuckles. Keith is next to him, lightly drooling. He’s still fully clothed with even his shoes still on, and his long hair is splayed out and touching Lance’s face. They are very close. They are holding hands. 

 

Lance warms. A harrowing night has become a blissful morning. He wonders how long he can live in this moment, staring freely at Keith’s long lashes and the graceful slope of his jaw.

 

Unfortunately it is not long. Lance really has to pee. 

 

He extracts himself without disturbing his bed mate and heads to the bathroom. A hot shower washes the residual sleep off of his body, along with a few remaining flecks of glitter. He feels more like himself as he goes through his morning skin routine. The smell of his moisturiser is soothing and going through the repetitive steps is like a meditation. It focuses him. He completes the ritual by wrapping himself in a fluffy bath robe. 

 

He walks back into the bedroom and Keith stirs. He rolls over and starts to open his eyes. 

“Lance? I gotta…” He slurs.

“Shhhhh, shhh, hey,” Lance rushes over and pushes him back onto the mattress. He coos and pushes Keith’s hair off of his forehead. 

“Go back to sleep. It’s ok. We don’t have anywhere to be.” He smiles fondly. Keith is quick to close his eyes and curl back into the blankets. Lance chuckles. He grabs a throw blanket and tosses it over Keith’s shoulders, making sure he is extra snug before he goes downstairs. 

 

…

 

Keith is shocked to see his phone reads 10:30am when he wakes up. He’s even more surprised to see that he’s not in his own home, until he manages to remember last night’s events. He has a headache. His mouth tastes terrible and his feet feel sweaty. Lance is not next to him, but the shower is damp. 

 

Keith rubs his eyes as he walks out of the bedroom and down the stairs. He blinks blearily towards the kitchen where utensils clang and popping noises can be heard. A head pokes out of it. Lance is still just in a bathrobe and slippers. He beams as Keith hits the bottom step. 

“Heeeey, sleepyhead.” He sings. “I’m just finishing your breakfast.”

“Doneed brrrfast.” Keith grumbles. He rubs his eyes again. Lance giggles. He puts down his spatula and takes Keith’s hand.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve gotta eat.” He leads him to the breakfast counter. 

“Sit.” He pulls out a stool and commands. Keith shyly smiles.

“Ok, ok.”

“Alright, now let me finish making magic.”

 

Keith watches Lance as he pours his attention over the stove. He smiles widely as he flips an egg and it stays in tact. He moves fluidly between his two fry pans, flipping and seasoning. It’s relaxing. Keith thinks of Cuba. 

 

“Here we aaaare.” Lance throws the final garnish onto their plates and skips over.

“Lance’s famous huevos rancheros.” He pulls up a stool in front of Keith as he plops them down. They look colourful and elaborate. Keith chuckles.

“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“No way. I rarely get to make breakfast for people, so I like going all out.” Lance breaks his yolk and begins to spread it over the plate. He happily digs in. Keith follows his lead. 

 

They are very tasty. Keith feels more human after a few bites, especially with the fresh cup of coffee Lance offers him. Lance looks on in surprise as Keith downs the mug, black, no sugar, in one drink. 

“Was it good?” Lance laughs.

“Yeah. Everything’s great.” Keith nods. 

Lance smiles dopily, with his chin resting in his hand, as he watches Keith finish his last few bites. Keith wipes his face, and avoids Lance’s gaze. There’s something on the tip of his tongue and it is not the zesty tomato relish. He sighs and places his knife and fork down in the middle of the plate. The clang they make sounds like a starter’s pistol. 

 

“Lance,” Keith’s starts. He pointedly picks up his eyes to lock with Lance’s. Lance looks suddenly panicked. 

“If you… _want_ to go out to gay bars, I’ll happily take you. That’s my job.” He sighs. An invisible bubble around them, holding together this lazy morning of Egyptian cotton sheets and huevos rancheros, bursts. 

“You shouldn’t go alone.”

Lance deflates. He traces designs in the left over yolk with his fork. 

“I don’t want to.”

“Then why did you go? Lance…” Keith’s eyes search the smooth planes of Lance’s face for any emotion. 

“Lance, are you gay?”

 

Lance falls forward. He covers his face with a hand and lets out a frustrated groan. He hates this conversation. He hates that he’s been pressed against a corner and is being forced to have it. 

“Dishes, I need to-“ He reaches for Keith’s plate.

“Lance!” Keith snatches his plate back, but he replaces the contact with his own hand. He laces their fingers together. Lance feels his walls crack. 

“Lance, you can tell me. I’ll understand.”

Keith’s smile is so sweet. Lance wonders what it would be like to taste. 

 

“I’m not gay.” The easy part. “I’m bi.” The hard part. But in Keith’s company, it feels okay to say. Keith smiles wider. He squeezes Lance’s hand tightly. 

“Ok,” He chuckles. 

“I’ve never told anyone that before.” Lance mumbles. That shocks Keith. He leans forward.

“Never?”

Lance shakes his head. He takes his hand back and holds himself around his waist, like he feels his very body might tumble apart. 

 

“Because… because I liked girls… I just thought I could ignore that part of me, you know?”

Keith huffs out a laugh. He then has to scramble to explain himself. 

“I’m sorry, I laughed because I’ve been there. What you’re feeling is very common.” He schools his features back into serious concern.

“But you can’t deny that part of you, Lance.”

“I know.” Lance nods. “But oh boy… oh boy I tried.” He laughs and rapidly blinks. His eyes look glassy. 

 

“Like I can’t be _foreign_ and _brown_ and _queer,_ ya know? So I thought I would never have to deal with this if I just kept dating girls. And I love girls! So it was fine and easy and everything was going great, but then that photoshoot-“ Lance is babbling.

Keith stiffens at the mention of the photoshoot. 

“And you were close to me and smelled so good, and it felt so nice when you touched me… ugh, fuck!” Lance throws himself back with a powerful shout. He stays looking at the ceiling for a palpable moment. Keith does not say a thing.

 

“I just kept thinking about what it would be like, you know? I thought I could go out and have a one night stand… get it out of my system.” He comes forward again and runs his fingers through his hair. He looks hopeless.

“But then when it came time I just… panicked. I got so scared.” 

 

Keith stands up. He walks around the bench until he is at Lance’s side, and pulls him secure against his chest. Lance eagerly grabs him tightly around the waist. 

“It’s ok. You did the right thing.”

“Why do I feel like a coward?” Lance mumbles into his stomach. Keith laughs. It vibrates pleasantly. 

“Because you didn’t fuck a guy?” He scoffs. “You’re not. You just aren't that sort of person.”

He sways gently from side to side. 

“Also it can be really scary, so I don’t judge you. I couldn’t have done that.”

“No?”

“Nah. I’m a terrible example, do not follow in my gay shoes, but I could not have done that for my first time.”

“Ooooh, do you have a sexy past?” Lance looks up and smirks. He still holds Keith tightly. Keith flicks his ear.

“Shut the fuck up.”

He wiggles out of Lance’s grip. There’s still one part of this confession that weighs heavy on his chest. Something he can’t ignore. 

 

“I’m sorry.” He sighs.

“What for?” Lance looks more at ease now. His natural smile graces his features. Keith scratches his arm.

“I dunno? For the photoshoot? For making you feel this way?” He shrugs.

 

Lance barks with laughter.

 

It surprises Keith. He barely notices when Lance kicks him lightly in the thigh, leaning back in his stool and gripping onto the backrest for balance.

“Get over yourself! So arrogant.”

“Well you said-“

“You were the first man who had held me in years. It was never going to take much.” Lance chuckles as he hops up. 

“Oh it was all Keith’s fault!” He swoons dramatically against the pantry. “He held me in his big, strong arms and released my inner gay! He touched my nipples and it made my penis feel funny!”

“Stop.” Keith tosses a used napkin at him. “I get it, ok? I didn’t turn you. I didn’t awaken anything inside you. I’m not the peak of your fantasies.” He drawls and rolls his eyes. 

“Well I wouldn’t say no.” Lance is quick to answer. More teasing. It confuses Keith. 

 

“I knew I would have to deal with it sometime.” Lance sighs. “I just hoped it would be less aggressive and sudden.”

“We all do.” Keith nods. Lance walks back to him. He stands close. He smells like garlic. 

“Do you want a boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” Lance sheepishly smiles. He rubs behind his neck and blushes like a teenager. 

“Anyone in mind?” Keith asks. Lance’s smile falls. 

 

“No one realistic.”

 

Keith nods. He smiles, feeling he knows the subtext of the words. _Straight guys, right?_

“Here, let me help you.” He picks up their discarded plates and takes them to the sink. He admires the view of the distant beach through the window as he rinses the them. He works at building up a sense of normalcy again. 

“I’ll have to go home to shower and change, but i should make it back within an hour if that’s alright?” He loads the dishes into the washer and wipes his hands on his dirty trousers. 

“What are you talking about? I’m giving you the day off.” Lance shakes his head. He picks up the dirty fry pans and dumps them in the sink. 

 

“Go home. Sleep. I’m not going to bother you any more today.” He smiles. He buts Keith out of the way with his hip. Keith staggers to the side as Lance takes over washing up. 

“I won’t have you taking care of me any more than you already have today.” He chuckles. Keith stammers.

“B-but don’t you have a meeting with-“ 

“I’ll cancel it.” Lance shrugs. Keith’s eyes narrow. He crosses his arms across his chest. 

“I feel like I shouldn’t leave you.”

“Getting attached?” Lance teases. He sighs, drops the fry pan, and turns towards Keith. He places his hands on his shoulders. 

 

“Go home. I promise I’m ok.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you feeling anxious or panicking about what you told me.” Keith steps close. His words are honest. They make it hard for Lance to breathe. 

“I’m sure.” He laughs. “This is the least anxious I’ve felt in a long time.” He licks his bottom lip and lets his hands fall. He wrings them together.

 

“I’m really glad… that you’re who I picked.”

Keith feels lightheaded. He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. 

“I’m happy I was here for you.” He clears his throat. “It’s hardest the first time… Coming out I mean.”

“I can’t imagine telling anyone else yet.”

“I know. And it’s up to you. But I’ll be here if you decide to.” 

 

Keith and Lance both nervously laugh and rock back on their heels. Lance leans on the bench. Keith begins to step backwards.

“I should uh…” He points behind him.

“Go ahead. Take a big nap.” Lance nods.

“I think I’ll shower first.” Keith corrects. “But naps sound good too.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Keith.”

“Take care, Lance.”

 

Keith walks out of Lance’s apartment with a smile on his face. Something hopeful blooms in his chest. He refuses to acknowledge what it might be. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the next chapter of "Keith, you are no longer keeping this relationship professional at all. Like you're not even trying."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith sees the line dividing what is professional behaviour from unprofessional behaviour and promptly... 
> 
> Sits on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from my holiday! Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Keith arrives, well rested after his impromptu day off, at Lance’s apartment in the late morning. He opens the door and is greeted with the pleasant sound of acoustic guitar being plucked in an intricate melody. It reminds Keith of the Spanish guitar Luis would play for the Maldonado family after dinner on those particularly warm summer nights. 

 

Keith walks into the living room and realises that the music is not coming from a radio, but from the almost-naked boy lazing on the couch. Lance sits in just a pair of boxers, plucking away at his guitar. 

“I didn’t know you could play.” Keith smiles. 

 

Lance hits a foul note as he’s startled. He then relaxes and sinks deeper into the cushions when he sees Keith. He smiles lazily and picks up the melody again.

“Of course I play. I write all my music you know.” He smirks. 

“Mmmm, but this sounds very Spanish.” Keith comes closer. “It’s nice.” He sits next to Lance on the couch and watches his fingers with interest. How trained their movements over the strings are. 

 

“All my songs start off sounding something like this. Before all the effects and production go into them.”

“Mmmm, I think you should release a few that sound just like this. It’s nice.” Keith sighs. He leans his Chen on his hand. “And you can probably hear your voice better.”

“Mmmm,” Lance flirtatiously waggles his eyebrows. “Do you like the sultry sound of my voice?”

Keith looks at him blankly before he stands. 

“You should get some clothes on. We have to leave in 10.”

 

…

 

Keith and Lance arrive at the recording studio, where Lance meets with label executives and Coran. Keith waits politely by the door of the office while they excitedly discuss future events. 

 

They mark on calendars when Lance will release his new album, when he’ll release his first single, and the months he’ll be on tour. They proudly hold up concept art for what the posters and album cover may look like. They ask Lance his opinion occasionally, but barely give him a chance to answer. He nods and lets the information wash over him while Coran takes notes. 

“And the tour will be _international_ Lance! We’re talking Europe, South America, Australia, Japan, the works! It’s going to be your biggest yet.”

Lance shakily grins. 

 

“Oh by the way! Congratulations on your nomination for pop album of the year at the American Music Awards.”

Lance blinks. 

“I forgot all about that.” He chuckles. “Isn’t that coming up?”

“Pretty soon, yes.” Coran flips through his diary. “Just a couple of weeks now.”

“Well they have asked that you perform on the night. Are you up for it?”

“Uhhhh…. what am I performing?” Lance looks nervous. 

“Oh! I believe they’ve requested _Young Tonight_?” An executive looks through his emails. Lance sighs.

“Oh, ok. Yeah that’s fine. I’d be happy to.” 

 

_Young Tonight._ The melody instantly floods through Keith’s head, where it had resided for most of the summer. It was a huge hit and is Lance’s biggest song to date. The powerhouse feel-good single off his latest album, where he sings about staying out late, kissing girls on the beach, and shirking adult responsibilities. It was always bound to be a hit. 

 

“We’d love to start work on the new album as soon as possible.” A woman eagerly flicks through graphs and her calendar open on her laptop.

“Have you thought of a name yet?”

“Oh…”

Lance’s eyes dart nervously. He rubs behind his neck. 

“Uhhh… Maldonado.” 

Keith’s eyes flit over to Lance with shock. He stares at the back of Lance’s head, wondering what his intentions are.

“Maldonado?” The record executives hum. “What is that? Some exotic beach somewhere? Are we going with a summer loving theme?”

 

Lance is quiet. 

“Sort of like that.”

 

“Well we’ll consider it. Meanwhile, we’d love to hear some demos soon. We’ll let your producer know you’ll need the studio and should be expecting to collaborate soon.”

Lance stands and weakly smiles. 

“Great. Looking forward to it.”

 

…

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck.” Lance’s steps to the car are hurried and exasperated. As soon as he leaves the executives’ office his shoulders rise with tension. He looks wired. He slides into the back seat of the car and whips out his phone. Keith keeps his attention on his client whilst calmly pulling out of the parking lot. 

 

“Hey!” Lance sounds frazzled as he speaks into his phone. “Allura, are you available now?”

“What? Now?” Her voice is high and tinny through the receiver. 

“Yeah, now. Like right now.”

“No?”

“Meet me for lunch?”

Keith hears a deep sigh from the speaker.

“Alright. I’ll be at our usual in 15.”

“Great.” Lance chuckles. 

 

Lance directs Keith down the road to a street lined with antique shops and quirky brunch places. Keith’s eyes narrow curiously at a specialty vegan steak house. They park outside a cafe that boasts the “World’s Best Eggplant Parmigiana!”. 

 

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

Lance rummages around in his bag and pulls out his wig.

“Got my disguise!”

“God I hate that thing.” Keith shakes his head with a disapproving sigh. Lance smirks.

“Gets the job done.”

“Yes and that’s what’s most important.” Keith nods in agreement. 

 

He and Lance walk into the restaurant and blink as their eyes adjust to the dim light. Keith thinks it would officially be classified as _intimate_ or _romantic_ lighting, but he knows it usually just gives him a headache when he tries to read the menu. The restaurant smells heavily of rosemary and basil. A waiter greets them.

 

“Table for two?”

“Oh uh… we actually…”

“They’re with us.” 

 

Shiro gently approaches from behind, clearly watching and waiting for their arrival. The waiter nods and picks up some more menus and wine glasses, before he leads them into a private room. There is no door, but there is a doorway framed with heavy curtains. Keith has to focus on the woman seated at the far side of the table, her dark skin looking warm in the lamp light, before he recognises her. Allura wears a long, black, wig with tight curls and a baseball cap. It changes her whole impression, but unlike Lance in his wig, she still looks beautiful. More approachable. Her bright eyes widen as Lance enters the room. 

 

“Ah! I didn’t think we’d beat you.” She smiles. Lance takes up a seat across from her. The waiter sets out the menus and glasses, then leaves. 

“You live close to here. We were all the way at my record label.”

“Excuses for tardiness will not be tolerated.” Allura smiles. 

 

Keith joins Shiro at the doorway. They both pull up a chair so they do not look so imposing in the small, family owned establishment. Even though they have already drawn some glances. He tries to smile at Shiro and spring up an easy conversation. He hopes they look less rigid and threatening. 

“Sorry for pulling you away from your plans.”

“It’s no problem. Allura had to eat anyway and this place is really close by. It’s one of her favourites.”

“Is the food good?” Keith asks. 

“I’m not sure. I only come here when I’m working, so I don’t really get the chance to try it.” Shiro shrugs. 

That causes guilt to rise in Keith’s throat. The knowledge that Shiro and Allura have never eaten here _together_ is … uncomfortably unsurprising. 

“I see.” He hums. 

 

“So what has you in such a state?” Allura sighs. She grabs the bottle of water and pours Lance a glass. He dramatically huffs and leans on his elbow, his face in his hand. 

“It’s my label. They’re asking me about singles and a whole album _already._ ” He pouts. “I’m supposed to release the lead single off of my album next month! Something that encapsulates the whole sound and mood of the upcoming album, but will still be really commercial.”

“And the song is not coming along as you’d hoped?”

“The song is non-existent.” Lance hisses. Allura closes her eyes and smiles. Like she’s trying to suppress the need to lecture. She twirls her finger around a tight coil of hair. 

 

“I have _nothing_.” Lance explains. “I’ve been so run down, I thought I would have more time in between projects but-“

“They want to strike while your name is still hot.” Allura finishes. She’s been in the business the longest of any of their friends and knows how it works by now. She’s had her image sold, built upon her father’s business, and then rebranded her name numerous times over now. She knows how to play the game.

 

“Do you have anything?”

“What do you think _nothing_ means?” Lance huffs. “No ideas. No inspiration. No motivation. Writing doesn’t even seem like it will feel good. I’m just under too much pressure.” 

He falls forward on the table in a depressed heap. Allura smirks at his antics. 

 

The waiter who had previously seated them makes his way back into the room. He looks down at Keith and Shiro curiously, but barely breaks stride as he passes between them and over to the small table. He clears his throat. Lance turns his head to the side, not bothering to lift himself to look at the waiter.

 

“Have we made any decisions about what we’d like to order?” He asks, unfazed. 

“Yes, I think so.” Allura brightly smiles. “I’ll take my usual chicken and pomegranate salad and an earl grey tea.” She recites off and hands over her menu.

“And my friend would like…”

“Some reprieve from the ceaseless march of time and the demands placed upon me.” Lance mumbles into the table. Allura frowns and kicks him under the table. 

 

“I mean, I’ll have the eggplant parmigiana.” He sits up with an apologetic smile. “And a diet coke. And…” He turns over his shoulder to look at Keith in the doorway. 

“Keith! What do you want?” He asks brightly. 

Keith is surprised to hear his name. He turns around with a concerned expression. 

“Oh no, I’m working so-“

“Keith, you gotta eat! I’m not having you go hungry just because I decided on a spontaneous detour.” Lance implores.

“But I-“

“I can watch everyone. You should take a break. You deserve it.” Shiro offers. It seems nice enough… until he sneakily winks. Keith hopes he’s the only one who caught it. He glares at his friend. 

 

“Yes! Come sit!” Lance happily pushes out the chair next to him and pats it. Keith sighs.

He stands and walks over, taking his spot next to his client. The waiter waits silently as all of this unfolds.

“He’ll have a diet coke as well and a….” Lance trails off. “I know you like lasagna, but I think you should try their eggplant parmigiana. It’s really good.” He suggests to Keith. There’s no trace of the mopey and depressed man from mere seconds ago now that Keith is next to him. Lance excitedly points at the menu. 

“If that’s what you recommend.” Keith shrugs.

“It is. Absolutely.”

“I guess I’ll get that then?” Keith locks eyes with the waiter. He nods and scribbles it on his pad of paper. 

“Excellent choice, sir.” He responds robotically, before he gathers up the menus and leaves. 

 

Lance waits for a few beats before he descends back into his dramatics.

“So anyway that’s why my life is turmoil. So if you have any advice that would be great.” He sighs. Keith and Allura both roll their eyes, then smile as they catch each other. Lance looks between them with confusion, not understanding what joke they seem to be sharing. Keith tries to compose himself. Allura sighs. 

 

“Well if you could write anything, what sort of thing would you _like_ to make? What do you _want_ to sing?” She asks. 

Lance twists his mouth in thought and scratches his cheek. He leans back in his chair, before crossing his arms over his chest. He looks down.

“I dunno. I think I would like to do something slower. Quieter. Something that feels more personal to _me_ , you know?” He sighs. 

 

“I really like party songs! I do! And I love making them just…. I dunno.” He shrugs. “I feel like that’s just not where I’m at right now. But I know that’s what people _expect._ ”

“Yeah so do the thing you want then! That way it’ll be surprising and different.” Allura encourages.

“Ugh there’s just too much pressure now. Like I feel like everyone’s just waiting for me to slip up.” He frowns. 

“It’s too risky.” He decides and combs his fingers through his hair. He tugs at the strands in frustration. 

“Maybe I should just do the expected thing. It’s part of my brand.”

 

Keith scoffs. He does not realise he has made a noise until Lance’s and Allura’s faces whip around to look at him. He blushes under the scrutiny. 

“I uh… I think you should just go for it.” He mumbles. “Like when you are having fun and love what you produce, you can tell. And your fans will love it too. Besides…” He licks his lips and continues.

“I think it’s _because_ you’re so popular now that you should do it. Like if people don’t like it _now_ then they never will.” He shyly smiles.

“And I think you’ll really regret it if you don’t try.” Keith finishes.

He suddenly feels self conscious and looks down at his hands folded on the table, ignoring Allura’s gaze and Lance’s slowly spreading wide smile.

 

Lance looks elated. He quietly chuckles and he leans forward, cupping his chin in his hand. He keeps his fond expression trained on Keith. He sighs.

“You’re a genius, you know that?”

“Wha-?” Keith flushes. Lance grins sharply. He turns his gaze towards Allura.

 

“You see why I keep him?” He beams.

“Keith does have a point.” She nods. 

“Keith always has a point. That’s why I like him.”

“Please stop talking about me like I’m not right here.” Keith glares at his client. Lance no longer winces under it. Instead he just smiles wider and bumps his shoulder against Keith’s. He looks at him from under his lashes.

“Thanks, Keith. That’s good advice.”

Keith smiles softly and bumps him back. 

“No problem.”

 

The waiter returns with their drinks, and their meals soon follow. Lance oohs and ahhs at the large plate of molten cheese and aromatic tomato sauce that is placed in front of him. There is a small amount of pasta served with the dish so that all of the sauce can be taken advantage of. 

 

“Dig in, Keith. Tell me what you think!” Lance insists.

He leads the way and gets stuck into his parmigiana. He has not eaten all day and does not hesitate to fix that. Keith follows suit. 

 

He has to admit that it is very good. He always had a soft spot for Italian. There is something homely about it, and it reminds him of winter nights when Shiro would come home and make him spaghetti… one of the few things he knows how to cook. Though Shiro’s will always be his favourite, Keith has to admit that this sauce is much better. He hums happily at the second mouthful. 

 

“Is good” He mumbles. 

Lance grins. 

“I told you.”

 

Lance and Allura continue to discuss his schedule as they eat. Keith munches silently, just quietly relieved for the hot meal. He’ll never admit to Lance how hungry he had been and how much he needed this. His stomach had been grumbling throughout the entire record label meeting. He’s down to the last few noodles when he looks over at Lance.

 

Lance who’s speaking animatedly with his friend… with a string of cheese stuck to the side of his mouth. Keith chuckles.

 

The smallest sound from Keith stops Lance mid-sentence. His pivots around to look at his bodyguard. He sees Keith trying to hide a smile.

“What are you laughing at?” He smirks. 

“You have some…” Keith points to his own cheek. Lance pokes his tongue out to try and lick the spot, but he’s going for the wrong cheek. 

“No, no…” Keith points more exasperatedly. 

Lance switches the side of his tongue, but it still won’t reach. 

 

“Oh my god.” Keith grabs his napkin and takes Lance’s chin in his hand. He wipes at his cheek. 

“I can’t take you anywhere.”

“I am a perfect gentlemen.”

“You are a messy child.” Keith leans forward and smirks. Lance giggles, despite the insult. 

 

Keith tosses his napkin down on the table. Lance scoffs.

“Oh, you’re one to talk. You’ve got sauce on your face.” He smirks.

“What? Where?”

Lance leans forward, smoothly sliding his finger over Keith’s plate, before he plants a dab of sauce on his cheek.

“Right here.” He chuckles.

Keith’s eyes widen. 

 

“Oh my god!” He throws his hands up. “You are actually the worst!” He grabs his napkin again and cleans his face. He does not miss how Lance drags his fingers in sauce again.

“Wait! Wait, you missed some more!” He lunges forward. Keith expertly catches him by the wrists. Lance tries to push against him. They both laugh at his struggle. Keith manages to push Lance’s hand close to his own face so that he gets sauce on his own cheek. Lance winces.

 

“Hey, Lance, why are you saucing yourself?”

“Oh my _god_ you’re so strong! This is bullshit!” Lance’s words sound annoyed, but his tone is hushed in awe. 

“Don’t mess with me.” Keith warns with a smirk. He relinquishes Lance’s wrists, who seems to have learned his lesson, and he begins to clean his face. 

 

Shiro observes the entire interaction. He glances over at Allura who he notices has also been watching. The two share a wide-eyed look. 

 

“So,” Allura clears her throat. The boys finally notice her again. “Lance, if you are in need of some inspiration, I suggest that you relax a bit.” She smiles kindly and munches on a lettuce leaf. 

“Nothing drives inspiration further away than panic.”

Lance hums, considering it.

“And I mean, you are an extrovert, you should see people more. Hang out with your friends. Have a party or something?”

 

Lance lights up. A manic grin spreads across his lips. He leans forward on the table suddenly.

“You mean like a slumber party!” He asks in a rushed and excited whisper. 

It is now Allura’s turn to brighten and sit up straight. She claps her hands together.

“Oh! Oh yes exactly!”

“Will you come?”

“Of course! I would be delighted!”

They clasp hands and cheerfully laugh. Keith watches the entire interaction with a level of curiosity.

 

He’s never been to a slumber party, but he’s not sure why they would be so exciting.

 

Lance and Allura whip out their phones and their fingers fly over keyboards. Their phones ping and vibrate in their hands with rapid conversation. 

“I’m free friday, are you?”

“Yes, yes!”

“I got Hunk! He’s in!”

“I’ve got Matt and Pidge.”

 

Lance and Allura gleefully mark their calendars. They squeal over how they can’t wait to see everyone, and Allura proclaims that she will wear her ugliest pyjamas. Lance talks about his expert pillow fort building skills. 

 

His joy is… very cute. 

 

“You gotta help me pick up snacks, Keith!” Lance turns to the man next to him. “We’ve gotta go party shopping now! There’s so much to do! You’ll help, right?”

“Alright, yes, alright.” Keith laughs.

 

The waiter collects their plates and drops off the bill. Lance demands to pay for everything. Allura tries to protest until Keith gets close to her and mumbles:

“He’s a brat. He always gets what he wants eventually.”

She laughs and concedes. 

 

…

 

 Allura leaves the tip despite Lance’s protests, and the four leave the cafe. Lance has a renewed spring in his step as Keith escorts him to their car. Allura and Shiro wave goodbye and watch their vehicle pull away and move down the road. Allura begins to move towards her own car only when they are out of sight. Shiro falls into step at her side. 

 

“So…” She starts. “If anyone asks… do we just pretend we didn’t see anything between those two?” She grins. 

“Oh god, don’t even get me started.” Shiro rubs the bridge of his nose.

 

…

 

Keith drives to his agency’s office the next morning in order to meet with Shiro and Hunk about security for this… party. It’s early, as all three of them have to go meet with their clients and stay with them throughout most of the day, and Hunk looks particularly tired. He nurses an iced coffee topped with whipped cream. 

 

They sit in a meeting room and Keith explains Lance’s apartment’s current security. He lays out diagrams and maps of the building and surrounding area, but confirms that Hunk will be on site all night. 

 

“And you’ll be there too, right?” Hunk asks. “It won’t be a real party without you there.”

“All night?” Keith grimaces. “No, not overnight. It seems inappropriate.”

Hunk’s eyes narrow with confusion. Keith continues to explain. 

 

“If Lance were staying at someone _else’s_ house, I _might_ stay as a precaution. You can stay overnight, because you’re there as Lance’s friend and guest. Like the Holt’s are there, but you’re primary role is as Lance’s friend. I’m there as his employee, so it feels like a grey area to stay with you guys.” Keith shrugs. He’s trying to navigate the ins and outs of what his role is, but has firmly decided that more walls will crumble if he attends this slumber party overnight. Visions of waking up in a sleeping bag pile with Lance on top of him do not seem out of the realm of possibility. Hunk does not seem to understand this fear.

 

“I think Keith is right. You should not stay overnight. The apartment’s security looks sufficient, so your presence won’t be needed.” Shiro nods down at a schematic. “Just make sure they keep the blinds closed, don’t let anyone in, and everything should be fine.”

“I will. And as I said, Hunk will keep an eye on things too.”

“Of course!” Hunk smiles.

 

Their meeting finishes with a quick discussion of drop off and pick up times. Keith starts to pack up his diagrams as the meeting finishes, when Hunk runs over. 

“Oh! I almost forgot! Here’s the address of that store you were asking about.” Hunk rummages in his pocket until he produces a post it note with details scrawled on it. Keith takes it. 

“Ah thanks.” He smiles. “I really appreciate it.”

 

…

 

Keith swings by the address on his way to Lance’s apartment.

 

…

 

Lance meets Keith in the entryway, already showered and dressed in his shopping outfit for the day. His eyebrows are knitted together and his arms are crossed over his chest. Keith is a bit breathless when he steps through the front door. 

 

“You’re late. I was worried.” Lance’s voice is cautious. Keith winces. 

“Sorry.” He licks his lips and looks sheepish. “I was getting you a present.”

 

Lance’s arms and jaw drop. He blinks helplessly at Keith, unable to move. He wonders if he misheard. 

 

But then Keith is stepping towards him, holding out a shopping bag for him to take. Lance wordlessly grasps it. Keith rubs behind his neck and shifts his weight from the balls to the heels of his feet.

“I uh… I hope it’s ok. I know it can’t be too close to your real hair colour or you’ll be recognised, but I just thought…” The words rush out of him. Lance gains enough awareness to finally open the bag and pull the object out of it. It’s another clear bag, smaller, containing what looks like a wad of hair. Lance’s eyes light up. He rips the bag open and gleefully shakes out the brand new wig. It is a cool greyish, blue colour, with long fibres on top that sweep to the side gracefully.

 

“I thought this colour might suit you more than the blonde.” 

 

Lance, without saying anything, takes off at a sprint for the stairs. He pounds up the flight and tears into his room. After five minutes he reemerges. He wears the wig and his smile is effervescent as he skips towards Keith. He brushes his fingers through the soft looking strands, that surprisingly, despite their unnatural colour, look as if they could be Lance’s real hair. The cool colour looks amazing against Lance’s warm skin. Keith scratches his chin. 

 

“You uh… do you like it?” He asks sheepishly. Lance catches his own reflection in the mirror that hangs next to the front door and smiles even more brightly. Keith wonders how that’s even possible. 

 

“I look like a superhero.” Lance says in an awed whisper, fluffing and playing with his fringe.

“I love it.” He states and turns his attention back to Keith. His cheeks go hot and he rubs his face. He whines and begins to sway from side to side.

“Keeeeeeeith.” He slumps forward and shuffles closer. “You shouldn’t have done this.” 

“I wanted to.” Keith smiles and shrugs. His stomach feels light. 

 

“Ah jeez, you’re too nice to me.” Lance leans his head on Keith’s shoulder. Keith huffs. 

“You look great.” 

“Thank you.”

 

And then Keith’s sides feel warm as Lance wraps his arms around him. Keith reciprocates and squeezes him tight. He pulls Lance close against him, until he feels his breath against his neck. The wig fibres tickle his jaw. They hold each other too closely and for too long to be appropriate. It’s with great reluctance that Keith finally pulls away. His hands are still on Lance’s waist.

 

He thinks about kissing him. 

 

Lance thinks about it too. 

 

“We should…” Keith clears his throat. “We should get going. You have a lot that you want to buy, I’m sure.”

“You know me so well.” Lance chuckles.

 

…

 

They arrive at an ordinary grocery store, and confident in his new disguise, Lance is like a child in a candy store. He excitedly runs down the aisles, drifting around corners on his shopping trolley. He grabs bags of chips, cookies, gummy snakes, fun sized snickers, m&ms, honey coated nuts, and lollipops. Keith finally chides him when Lance drops in another bag of Doritos. 

 

“Aren’t you going to like … eat real food at this sleepover at all?” Keith looks at the full trolley with disgust. 

“Oh yeah! Hunk told me to get him some things!” Lance pulls a post-it note out from his back pocket. At the top of it is scratched the words “Calzone ingredients”. 

 

They methodically work through the aisles picking up items from the list, like real adults. Peppers, tomatoes, olives, onions, and mushrooms get selected from the produce aisles. Lance tosses in a cheeky can of pineapple that he knows will send Pidge reeling. Keith watches Lance gleefully snigger to himself, imagining her disgusted tirade. 

 

“She’ll be livid.” Lance’s eyes look wild. “It’ll be great.”

 

They proceed to the baking aisle and pick up flour, and yeast for the dough. Lance chatters away about how good Hunk’s fresh made dough is, and how he manages to perfectly cook it through, without burning the bottom. Keith listens contently. Lance talks a lot, and his conversation topics bounce around, but Keith doesn’t mind. He likes seeing the other man freely smiling in public and able to be himself, without the fear of being discovered or judged. He doesn’t think he’s seen Lance so relaxed since their time in Cuba.

 

Lance’s good mood only improves when they walk through the mall and Keith is dragged into a sterile looking cosmetics store. Lance makes a beeline for a particular corner, and begins to eagerly read labels on sachets and load up his basket. 

 

“Face masks?” Keith curiously looks at the sachets and jars that Lance has selected. Their labels use words like “exfoliate” and “plumping” and promise a “youthful glow”. Keith understands all the words individually, but put together…. they lose all meaning. 

 

“What is all this for?” He examines an ‘activated charcoal scrub’. 

“It’s not a slumber party without face masks.” Lance scoffs. 

“But you all have great skin. Why do you need all this?”

“It’s just fun.”

“Is it?” Keith narrows his eyes. He views personal care as more of a bothersome necessity than an indulgence. Lance looks at him with wide, un-blinking eyes. 

“Yes!” He states. “It’s fun! Everyone looks silly, and you get to laugh at how you can barely move your face, or when someone accidentally gets some in their mouth. Then when you take it off, you rub each other’s faces and compliment them on how soft and good it feels.” Lance preaches like he’s trying to convert Keith to his religion. Keith appears unswayed. 

“I guess I could understand the bonding you get out of that?”

Lance shakes his head. 

 

His hand skims over the shelf until he finds a mask that boasts “pore tightening” and “oil balancing”.

“I’m getting this one for you, and you’re going to have fun.” His tone is serious. He moves over to the registers with determination in his steps. 

“You really don’t have to. Lance! Stop buying me things!”

“I will do no such thing!” Lance dumps his haul on the counter and flashes a bright smile at the girl working it. 

“You take card I hope?”

 

…

 

Keith sighs as he finishes packing the last of the groceries into the back of the car. Lance sits inside of it already, his bags of skin care sitting safely next to him. Keith parks the trolley in the returns bay, then slides into the driver’s seat.

 

“You don’t have to wear that thing anymore. These windows are pretty tinted.” Keith nods towards Lance’s new wig. Their eyes meet in the reverse mirror. Lance runs a finger into the fibres.

“I know. I like it though.” He beams. Keith shrugs. 

“Suit yourself.”

 

Keith drives down the familiar route back to Lance’s apartment. He no longer needs a GPS and drives purely on muscle memory. The rows of palm trees and manicured hedges feel oddly reassuring now. He plays his playlist now reserved for car trips with Lance and the vehicle feels warm and comforting.

 

“Hey, Keith?”

“Mmm?”

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

 

_So much for comfort._

 

“I mean…” Keith chuckles. “I would love to say no, but I know you’re going to ask anyway.”

“I don’t have to.” Lance leans forward with a pitiful expression.

“It’s fine. Go ahead.” Keith sighs. He braces himself. 

 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” 

 

Lance’s question is polite and sounds well meaning, but it catches Keith off guard. He wants to shirk it, confused as to why Lance is asking this _now_ … but then he remembers that he is the only one Lance has come out to. As Lance’s only open connection to the LGBT+ world, Keith calms himself and prepares to start another lesson. Shiro was there for him, now he will be there for Lance. No matter how uncomfortable it might become. 

 

“Uh, no. I don’t.” He answers calmly. 

“Why not? That seems unlikely.” Lance chuckles. 

Keith looks back at Lance with some degree of confusion. His eyes narrow as he tries to pinpoint what Lance is trying to uncover.

 

“Are you asking me if the MlM dating scene is as competitive and shallow as many articles have claimed it to be?” He asks. 

Lance blinks rapidly at him. He huffs out a nervous laugh.

“Wh-What?” He wheezes. “No! I was… I’m just trying to get to know you better.”

“So you’re not asking me to educate you on gay male culture?”

“Keith, what the fu… no.” Lance giggles and shakes his head. He then moves forward so he can lean against Keith’s seat.

“I was just curious.”

“Oh.” Keith purses his lips. All politeness melts off of him as he clams up, not thrilled that Lance is starting to prod into his personal life. 

 

The car is silent for only 30 seconds before Lance pokes again. 

“So why don’t you?” He smirks.

“Lance, where am I for six hours today?” Keith sighs. He realises that Lance isn't going to give up anytime soon. 

“Uh… with me?”

“Yeah. And who am I with 8 hours tomorrow? 12 hours on weekends? 16 hours if there’s an event on?”

Lance looks sheepish. He sinks into his seat. 

“M-me.”

“Mmmmm.” Keith hums with a smile. “I just don’t have time. It’s hard to start a relationship when my schedule doesn’t really give me the time to get to know someone.” He sighs. “I don’t know how Adam and Shiro manage honestly.”

 

Lance worries his lip and casts his gaze out through the window. He holds his stomach. He’s quiet. 

 

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs. 

“What?” Keith starts. He looks at Lance in the rear-view mirror and is shocked to see Lance looking so small in the back. He feels cold course through him. He knows seeing Lance upset always affects him, but knowing that _he_ said something to make Lance react this way… devastates him. 

 

He pulls over.

 

“Keith?”

“Don’t blame yourself.” Keith turns around in his chair to be face to face with Lance. His gaze is hardened with conviction. 

“I love my job.” He softens into a smile. “If I actually saw this as an issue, I would quit. But I don’t.”

He sighs and pats Lance’s knee. 

“So don’t feel guilty or anything. I don’t need you pitying my singleness” He chuckles. Lance licks his lips and laughs as well. He tucks some wig hairs behind his ear. His cheeks grow pink.

“Alright.” He chuckles. “I just don’t wanna have to issue an apology to all the guys who likely have a crush on you.”

“God,” Keith scoffs. He turns around and starts the car once more. “What guys?”

“Loads I bet! I’m sure you break hearts every day just walking down the street.” Lance leans forward and smirks devilishly. 

“That’s your reputation, not mine.”

“C’mon, don’t act like you’re not hot as shit. I know _you know_ you’re sexy.” He pokes Keith in the side. Keith jumps and the car swerves slightly. 

“I’m not participating in this conversation anymore!” He projects as he cranks up the car’s stereo.

 

They arrive at Lance’s apartment only a short time later and unpack all the groceries. Keith grimaces as he discovers several more tubs of ice cream and cupcakes that Lance must have snuck in. Lance runs the face masks up to his bathroom, then comes down to help Keith with the rest of the groceries. Keith looks at his watch when everything is in its place.

 

“Alright, I gotta be heading off.” He hums.

“What? It’s still early.” Lance pouts.

“I literally just told you how much time I spend with you and you’re looking to monopolise _more_ of it?” Keith scoffs.

“Yes.” Lance’s smirk is sharp. “Maybe I like the idea of keeping you all to myself.” He leans on the kitchen counter and waggles his eyebrows, leering at Keith with an obvious sweep of his eyes up and down his body. Keith rolls his eyes.

“Your personal trainer is coming in 10 minutes.” He moves to the front door. Lance trots behind him.

“But after that.”

“Don’t you have an album to write?” Keith whirls on his heel to glare at his client. Lance purses his lips. Like a child trying to get out of homework. Keith hums, knowing he’s won. 

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Keith grins as he walks out of the apartment. Lance’s sour expression quickly falls. 

“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it.” He beams.

“Now get some work done.”

“You’re not my mom.”

 

Keith leaves laughing. 

 

…

 

Despite the truth that Keith spends an unusually large amount of time at work, he finds himself at Lance’s apartment early the next morning. He helps Lance cut carrot sticks and set out snacks. He helps wash old blankets and toss cushions and comforters onto the couches in the living area. 

 

Allura is the first to arrive, with Shiro professionally escorting her into the apartment. Keith buzzes him in and meets them in the entryway. Lance takes Allura’s bags like a gentleman and shows her to the living room, whilst Keith and Shiro begin discussing how the evening will run and when handovers will take place. 

 

“I’ll come by at 11am to pick Allura up. She has a meeting at noon.”

“Alright, I’ll make sure she’s ready. I’ll be coming back at 8am to check everything is still in one piece and make sure everyone actually wakes up.” Keith assures Shiro. 

“That sounds sensible. And Lance knows no one is to enter the apartment and to always use the camera to check the identity of any visitors?” Shiro asks. 

“No, because he’s an idiot.” Keith mumbles. “But Hunk will be here and I’ve instructed Lance that _he_ is to be in charge.”

“Thank god.” Shiro smirks. 

 

The buzzer goes off again and Keith flicks on the entryway camera. He quickly sees Hunk, wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt and shorts, flanked by the Holts in loose t-shirts and track pants. 

“Hey Hunk, come up.” Keith buzzes him in.

 

Hunk bursts in to the apartment two minutes later brandishing two large Tupperware containers. He holds them above his head like they are the 10 commandments. 

“Who wants fresh guacamole and SAAAALSAAAAAA?!” He cries. Lance whoops loudly and bounds into the entryway. He sweeps his guests into the living room, seemingly pulled into the orbit of his energy, leaving Shiro and Keith alone by the front door.

 

“Just make sure no one dies.” Shiro turns with a weary expression. Keith tries to reassure him. 

 

…

 

Everyone settles in the living room, making a small nest out of blankets and pillows. They dive into Hunk’s dips and a large bowl of chips. They ooh and ah over how tasty they are, as Matt empties a bag of old video games and a hard drive filled with ancient Nickelodeon cartoons onto the ground. They pop it into the TV and watch some nostalgic _Angry Beavers_ when Lance reappears with a bowl of freshly buttered popcorn.

 

The group turns into a formless pile of fuzzy slippers and salted snacks. Pidge lays on her front, kicking her feet back and forth, whilst Matt sprawls on his side next to her. Allura hugs her knees and watches intently, not having much experience with American cartoons growing up and now curious about their reputation. Lance leans back against the solid and warm surface of Hunk’s chest. Keith smiles down at the friends who appear to now be settled nicely. He checks the locks on the windows and terrace one last time, before he walks into the living room. He slips on his coat and dusts off his hands. 

 

“It looks like things are running smoothly here.” He hums. Everyone’s attention quickly moves on to him. “So I think I’ll leave you to it. If you guys have any concerns, Hunk is in charge and Lance of course has my number. I’ll be by early to-“

“Wait, what?” Lance springs to his feet and clambers over the pillows. He trips on a particularly large suede one, but he continues to move quickly towards Keith. 

“Are you leaving?”

“Well yes, of course. You don’t need me to-“

“What? Keith, no.” Lance drops his voice to almost a whisper when he stumbles in close to Keith.

“No, I _want_ you to stay. You’re invited to this thing too.” He speaks softly and sweetly. He grasps Keith’s hand, trapping him here for just a bit longer.

“Lance…” Keith sighs. “I can’t stay overnight. This is for your friends and I would just get in the way and make it weird.”

“What? You won’t make it weird. Why would you make it weird?” Lance hisses.

“Because you’re my _boss_ and I’ve never _been_ to a sleepover before so-“

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’VE NEVER BEEN TO A SLEEP OVER BEFORE?!” Lance squawks.

 

Keith feels embarrassment flood through him. Something on the edge of anger taints his vision as he sees the shocked and pitying expressions on everyone’s face. He wants to run. 

 

“You’ve never been to a slumber party, Keith?” Allura’s tone is gentle and understanding. Keith crosses his arms defensively. He glares down at the marble tiles. Lance has stepped back, seemingly reading all the signs that Keith really does not want to be touched right now. 

 

“No.” He spits. 

“Well then it sounds like you should let us treat you to your first one.” She smiles. It’s difficult to stay sour in its presence. 

Matt rolls across the floor.

“Yeah, Keith! Stay!” His face gets buried in a pillow as he rolls. “We’ll show you what it’s all about!”

“And Hunk bought brownies and it’s actually illegal to not try one if you have the opportunity.” Pidge smirks.

“I…” Keith feels cornered. “I can’t stay overnight. I really can’t.”

“Just stay til desert then.” Hunk shrugs. “That should be fine, right?”

Hunk smiles. Keith knows this is definitely his way of making allowances, telling Keith that it’s okay, along with the promise that he won’t tell anyone at the office. 

 

“I…” His conviction is waning.

“Please, Keith?” Lance clasps his hand again and speaks like it’s only the two of them in the room. He looks directly into Keith’s eyes.

“I want you to stay.”

 

Keith slumps and lets out a shaky breath. Lance’s fingers are warm tangling in his.

 

“Alright.” He finally crumbles. 

Lance and Matt whoop loudly, while Allura and Hunk send supportive smiles. Lance takes both of his hands now and happily bounces. 

“Ok, ok, but the first rule of a sleepover is you _have_ to wear the official uniform.” He grins.

Keith regrets accepting already. 

“And what is that?” He braces himself.

“Pyjamas of course!” Lance giggles. He starts tugging Keith towards the stairs. “You can’t stay in your suit tonight. I will _not_ allow it.”

“So your plan is…?”

“You borrow mine!” 

 

Lance looks over at the rest of his friends and beams.

“We’ll be right back! Please tell Keith how cute he looks when he returns!”

“Oh my god.” Keith groans. 

Allura sniggers as Pidge just straight up laughs.

“Alright, just go.” Hunk chuckles.

 

Lance almost pulls Keith’s arm off as he sprints them up the stairs. They dive into his bedroom and Lance immediately dives towards his dresser. He opens the top drawer and begins rummaging around in a pile of blue cotton and flannel. He’s focussed in his search as he seems to have a particular article in mind. Keith taps his foot impatiently. 

 

“I don’t see why this is necessary.” He purses his lips. “And I don’t know if we can wear the same size. You’re taller than me.” He pauses. “And skinnier.”

“That’s why you’ll be wearing _these!_ ” Lance cackles and pulls out a pair of fuzzy, white, pants with an elasticated waist band. They are covered in pink hearts.

 

Keith glares at the offending article of clothing and the matching, pink, T-shirt Lance has found to go with it. 

“And why do you think I will do what you want?” He pointedly raises an eyebrow and meets Lance’s gaze. Lance smirks dangerously and moves very close. He sways his hips in a sensual arc and presses himself and the pyjamas into Keith’s chest. He licks his lips.

 

“Because…” He purrs. “I am a spoiled brat and I _always_ get what I want.”

Keith’s breath hitches. He’s transfixed on the small specks of yellow in Lance’s eyes and the warm breath that spills against his face. Lance pushes the pyjamas further into his chest.

 

“Tch,” Keith composes his gaping into a frown. “You _are_ a brat.” He takes the clothes.

“Yeah.” Lance hums. His hands drop to playfully tug at Keith’s belt and he lightly laughs. “Need a hand getting changed?”

“Stop.” Keith bats his exploring fingers away. Lance just laughs louder, especially as he is pushed back towards the open door and tossed through it forcefully. 

“No peeking.” Keith orders and slams the door.

Lance waits against the door frame with a pleased smile. 

 

Inside, Keith groans as he realises what he has gotten himself into. He methodically recounts all the rules he’s violating as he slips out of his suit, folds it, and begins to pull on the fuzzy pants.

 

They are very soft.

 

And warm. And they seem to fit well enough. A bit tight in the thighs and butt, but not uncomfortably, and the waist does not cut into him like he worried. Definitely comfortable enough to lounge in, but he would not be able to drop into the splits suddenly. Keith assesses most clothing not on how fashionable they are, or how they flatter him, but on how easy they would be to perform parkour in. He rates these pants as a respectable 6.5. He pulls on the T-shirt. He’s about to walk out when he catches his reflection in a mirror on the closet door. He hates how the pink of the shirt matches the pink dusting his cheeks. He hates how this shirt emphasises the size difference between Lance and him. The neck hole is too large, exposing more of his collar bones than is normal, sinking low on his chest. The shoulder seams fall down his biceps and the sleeves hit his elbows. He purses his lips at the reflection. A fluttering starts in his stomach that he dares not acknowledge. It beats stronger when he smells himself surrounded by Lance’s trademark jasmine scent. 

 

“Keith?” Lance softly knocks. “You’re taking too long! I must come in and help you.” He coos. Keith tears his gaze away from the mirror and tries to look normal as Lance steps through the door. Keith brushes his fingers through his hair, tucking it behind his ear. Lance’s grin is wide and his eyebrows wiggle flirtatiously as he steps into the dark room. 

 

“I’m all changed. Sorry there’s nothing left for you to help with.” Keith clasps and unclasps his hands.

Lance’s grin falls. His jaw goes slack as his eyes fall and rise over Keith’s body. Seeing the other man wearing his clothes causes an almost visceral reaction within him. He is pulled magnetically forward with the strong desire to sweep Keith up in his arms. To kiss the soft flesh of his exposed shoulder that his shirt slips off of. To run his hands over the worn fabric and feel Keith’s muscular chest underneath it. Keith in pyjamas looks… smaller. Like he would make an ideal little spoon. Lance imagines burying his nose into the hair at the nape of Keith’s neck.

 

“You…” He has to swallow around the sudden obstruction that has risen in his throat.

“You look very cute.” He smiles. His gaze is kind. Keith uncurls from himself, surprised at the reaction. He had been expected something taunting or teasing. Not… this. 

 

“Th-Thank you?” He tries. It seems appropriate. Lance laughs. He rubs his face and then gives a satisfactory sigh. He takes Keith’s hand again. Keith grips back. 

“Well now that you’re in the official uniform, we can finally kick this evening off.” Lance winks and escorts Keith back down the stairs. 

 

…

 

After a chorus of everyone telling Keith how nice he looks, at Lance’s request, Matt sets out hooking up the old game’s consoles and selecting some of his personal favourite retro video games to play. He picks an old fighting game that no one but Pidge seems to recognise called _Power Stone_ for the Dreamcast. Everyone is… pretty awful at it. Well except Matt of course, who whoops everyone who even attempts to touch him. Hunk works out the basics and has some good matches with Lance and Pidge. Allura and Keith’s characters flail awkwardly on the screen until one manages to hit the other by chance.

 

“Oh! Was that a kick?!” Allura excitedly perks up when Keith’s character is propelled to the other side of the screen. His health bar plummets.

“Yeah! Great job, Allura!” Lance high fives her.

“This game is stupid.” Keith pouts and drops the controller. 

 

They take turns playing _Jet Set Radio_ for the next hour, or at least until Hunk’s dips run out.

“Oh, dinner time?” Hunk asks. Pidge licks the bottom of the guacamole bowl.

“Hell yeah!” Lance and Matt both cheer. Hunk nods. 

 

Hunk moves through the kitchen with ease and familiarity, as if he’s made many meals in Lance’s kitchen before. He pulls out some dough that he prepared earlier and left in the fridge, and breaks it into five even lumps. He rolls these out into discs, slightly larger than tortillas, then begins slicing ingredients. He pulls out a tub of sauce and the cheese that Lance and Keith bought the day before. He prepares toppings of sausage, prosciutto, tomatoes, mushrooms, peppers, olives, anchovies, and even opens the dreaded can of pineapple, laying everything out in a small buffet.

 

“Alright guys! Come make your dinner!” Hunk pokes his head out of the kitchen and calls. Keith is slightly confused, but everyone else seems to know the drill. They get up and file into the kitchen and pick one of the rolled out pieces of dough as their own.

“You ever made your own calzone?” Lance asks excitedly. Keith nods.

“Shiro and I tried to make our own pizza once. It didn’t go well.” He frowns. Lance laughs.

“Well Hunk makes it easy. Just sauce it up and put on all the toppings you want.”

“Alright.” 

 

Keith hesitantly reaches for a sauce spoon and covers his dough. Lance helps him spread it out so it has a decent coverage and there won’t be any dry patches. Keith decides on a safe combination of cheese, onion, ham, and mushrooms for toppings. Lance and Hunk dump on _everything_ , while Matt goes for a particularly cursed combination of just anchovies and pineapple.

 

“Matt, can you take me to the hospital?” Pidge asks. “Because your calzone gave me cancer.”

“It’s _sweet_ and _salty!_ It’s a perfectly legitimate flavour combination!” Matt squawks. 

Pidge continues to glare at the offending food. Her tastes are just as questionable as she has heaped a tonne of onion on her dough, with only some olives and prosciutto to break it up.

 

“Oh here! You missed a spot!” Lance cheerfully places a single piece of pineapple in the very centre of her dough. Pidge wheels on him with a narrowing of her eyes. She snatches the pineapple and ditches it hard into his chest. 

“Get that poison off of there!” She hisses. 

“Remember your vitamins and minerals.” Lance plops a handful of spinach on her food and she bats it away in a spray of green confetti.

“Fuck off!” She shouts, but there’s a curl to her lips as she starts tossing pepperonis at him like small frisbees. Most hit Lance or the table, but one goes off course and plaps against Allura’s surprised cheek. She looks up from her task with wide-eyed shock. 

“Oh shit, sorry Allura!” Pidge squeaks. 

 

Allura picks up a slice of prosciutto and tosses it with frightening accuracy. It sticks slick to Pidge’s forehead. 

“You didn’t look very sorry.” Her blank stare morphs into something mischievous. 

 

It’s an all out food fight now. Hunk tries to get everyone to calm down, but ends up shoving a fistful of cheese into Lance’s hair when Lance hits him with an anchovy. Matt is pelted with pineapples and Allura ends up in some kind of olive incident. Keith watches it all unfold like he is having an out of body experience. He steps to the side, simultaneously wanting to get involved, but also dreading the thought. He watches food whiz past his face, but is miraculously unscathed. 

 

That is until a cold anchovy gets stuck in his hair. His head slowly turns to measure its trajectory and he locks eyes with a shocked and frightened looking Lance. His hands are cupped over his mouth. The others grow silent.

“Sorry, Keith! That was meant for Matt.” He sheepishly grins. Keith sighs.

He plucks the anchovy from his hair with two fingers and flicks it away. He reaches for the hair tie he always wears around his wrist and begins to tie up his hair into a high ponytail. He sighs.

 

“Lance, I just want to remind you that I went to a military academy, graduated with highest honours, and was the Tae Kwon Do state champion four years in a row.” His voice is cold. Lance swallows. 

“I’m just telling you this so that you know you never stood a chance.” Keith’s smile is sharp and he launches himself across the kitchen. 

 

Lance shrieks and tosses an entire bowl of pepperoni at him as he runs around the counter. Keith deftly dodges the bowl, and it clatters uselessly to the ground. The others can only stare in amusement as Lance and Keith both sprint around the counter, sending toppings flying. Lance’s accuracy is admirable as he hits Keith with several chunks of ham and a whole mushroom. Keith grows tired of missing and decides he’s had enough of this chasing round and round. He vaults himself over the entire counter and Lance is momentarily frozen as he watches in awe.

 

This is a mistake. Keith is on top of him before he can process what is happening, and with a deftness and precision that Lance finds as frightening as he does captivating, Keith is manoeuvring him onto the ground. The world moves in slow motion as he falls. His eyes only seeing Keith, then his back painfully hits the tiles.

 

And then Keith is on top of him, pinning his wrists and legs, looking down with wild, loose, dark, hair and an even wilder smile. Lance tries to sit up, but is held firmly in place. He tries to swallow down his excitement and not pay attention to the warmth of Keith’s thighs against his sides, or how he bounces on his crotch. He is stretched out and helpless in every sense. 

 

“God, I forget how strong you are.” He groans. He tries to struggle, but it’s a pitiful attempt. Keith can only smirk down at him with a taunting chuckle. 

“Alright guys! He’s all yours.” Keith looks up at the others and nods for them to come forward. Realisation dawns across Lance as he takes in their shit-eating grins. 

 

“Oh no….” He whispers. “Oh no no nononononono!” He thrashes more forcefully, but it is useless. The others bend around him and begin covering him in toppings. Allura dusts his hair with flour, Matt gives him an anchovy moustache. Pidge takes a thumb dipped in sauce and swipes it across Lance’s forehead whilst whispering “Simbaaa” in an awed hush. 

“Here lies Lance. May he rest in peace.” Hunk solemnly nods as he places two discs of pepperoni over his eyes. Keith gives him sauce freckles as a final touch. 

 

_Ding!_

 

The oven timer goes off.

“Oh thank god, everyone off!” Lance shouts. Everyone moves away and over to the ovens where they watch Hunk pull the golden brown calzones out of the heat. Keith relents and stands. In a show of apology, he holds out his hand and helps Lance up. He looks a mess. It’s hard to find his piercing frown threatening when he is covered in sauce, flour, and processed meats. 

“I warned you.” Keith shrugs. Lance wipes his face with a paper towel. He grimaces at its roughness. 

“Yeah, yeah. I guess it was worth it though.” He smirks.

“What do you mean?” Keith chuckles. 

“Got to see your ponytail again.” Lance steps forward and reaches around Keith to run the small tuft of hair between his fingers. 

“I told you I thought it was cute.” He smiles. Keith rolls his eyes.

“You’ve been saying that a lot tonight.”

“Cuz you’re cute tonight.” Lance grins wider. Keith chuckles. He reaches out and peels an anchovy from Lance’s ear. 

“Wish I could say the same, but I’m not into guys with fish on their face.” He breathes. He steps out of Lance’s arms.

“Oh, you _wound_ me.” Lance laughs. He trails after Keith to the ovens.

 

Hunk plates all their dinners up lovingly and they take their food back into the living room to watch more cartoons and eat. After two episodes of _Rocko’s Modern Life_ everyone is happy and full. Hunk looks particularly chuffed to see his friends enjoying his cooking and diving headfirst into their meals. Keith worries that he might not be able to enjoy his usual pizza place after being treated to Hunk’s cooking. The taste of garlic lingers in his mouth. 

 

“So I’m still kind of sticky.” Lance states. “And the acidity of tomato sauce must be wreaking havoc on my skin, so I was thinking this would be a good time toooooooooo…” He scurries out of the living room, his voice carrying behind him. When he returns, he holds up the full shopping bags Keith recognises from the beauty store. He shakes them above his head and wiggles his torso.

 

“Face masks!” He shouts.

Allura claps her hands in delight. 

“Oh god,” Pidge laughs. Hunk and Matt just smile and nod in agreement. 

 

Lance is giggling to himself as he takes up a spot on the floor and begins handing out hair bands and masks to everyone. Hunk booms with laughter as he sees the mask Lance has given him. It’s a cloth mask with a picture of a panda on it. When Hunk places it on his face, he turns into some horrifying warped panda creature. The mouth hole is too small and seeing his human eyes poke out of the cartoon panda’s face is unsettling. Lance and Matt have tears in their eyes and can barely breathe. 

 

“Here, Keith! Let me put on the one I chose specially for you!” Lance pats the floor in front of him. 

“How do I know it won’t eat my skin off?” Keith narrows his eyes. He warily leans away. Matt thumps him on the back.

“Go on, Keith. It’s fun! And Lance takes skin care way too seriously to mess with you.” His face is half covered in a pale yellow paste that Pidge has begun to paint on him. Keith groans and scoots forward.

 

Lance is delighted as he slips Keith into a headband. Keith feels strangely vulnerable without his fringe covering his forehead and face, and this feeling only grows as Lance takes out a brush and comes at Keith’s face with it covered in a grey goop. 

 

“It’s cold!” Keith winces. 

“Sorry. It’ll warm up quick.” Lance continues to paint with long, fluid movements. Keith soon finds his eyes lulled closed by the soothing touch. Lance smiles.

“Feels nice, yeah?”

“Mmm.”

 

Keith is silent as his entire face is covered. His skin cools and tingles pleasantly. He’s starting to see the appeal of this. 

“Alright! All done.” Lance announces.

“So do I wash it off now?”

“Oh… oh god no!” He laughs. “You wait for it to dry, and then you scrub it off.”

“How long does that take?”

“About 15 minutes.” He shrugs.

“So long!” Keith huffs. Patience is not one of his dominant traits. “What do I do until then?”

“You put mine on!” Lance bounces. He slips on a hair band and hands Keith a different pot and a clean brush. Keith nervously looks at the supplies. 

“I don’t uh…” His eyes flit between items in his hands and Lance’s beautiful face. “I don’t know…how?”

“Oh!” Lance makes a surprised little o with his mouth. “It’s really easy, you just get some on the brush-“ He demonstrates. “And put it on my face.” He paints a stripe on his cheek. His mask is baby blue and smells like ginseng. 

“I’m worried I’ll fuck it up.” Keith shakily takes the brush.

“You _can’t_.” Lance touches Keith’s knee and pats it. “As long as my face is covered, you’ve done your job.” 

 

Keith is still nervous, but Lance’s reassuring touch drives him forward. He starts with a shaky stripe down his other cheek, so he now has two symmetrical stripes either side of his face. They remind Keith of war paint. Lance chuckles. 

“It tickles.”

“Sorry.”

“No, no! I like it.” He grins. 

 

Keith continues to paint Lance’s face. He gains more confidence with every stroke, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying the view. Lance with his eyes closed, a slight quirk of his mouth whenever the brush reaches a ticklish spot. Keith traces the gentle slope of his brow, over the bow oh his lips and down to the tip of his nose.

“Oh no,” He mumbles.

“What?” Lance peaks open an eye.

“I got some in your eyebrow.”

“Oh,” He scoffs. “That’s totally fine. Don’t worry.”

 

With a few more touches, Keith proclaims his project finished. Lance looks at the reflection in his phone and confirms a job well done. 

 

While the others have been waiting for their masks to do their work, Matt has pulled out a tube of yellow nail polish and is painting Hunk’s nails. Pidge looks on. Her hair is tied up in ridiculous pigtails and her face is covered in a lime green, smooth, paste. Allura, in her pink mask, looks at Matt’s handiwork with keen interest. 

 

“You’re very good at that.” She comments.

“Thanks! I went through a goth phase.” Matt smiles. 

 

Pidge leans close to Keith and mumbles. 

“He’s not joking. He was on a VIP rewards program with our local pharmacy because he bought so much black nail polish.” 

Keith sniggers. 

 

“Allura!” Lance crawls across the floor to her. She looks back at him, her long hair falling over her shoulder and getting dangerously close to sticking to her face. 

“Let me braid your hair!” He looks at Allura’s long hair with envy, his fingers already twitching. Allura rolls her eyes at the familiar request. 

“Alright.” She smiles. She pivots her body so her back is towards Lance and she sits cross-legged. 

“Yes!” Lance gives a small fist bump and slides up to her hair. 

 

His fingers move in a dazzling rhythm, expertly parting and weaving her thick hair into a tapestry of strands. Keith gets dizzy from how quickly he moves. Allura’s hair always looks as if it exists as one entity, a cloud moving together, but Lance has tamed it into neat strands that he passes back and forth between his fingers. A thick, elegant, Dutch braid appears. 

 

“How do you do that?” Pidge comes over to look. 

“Oh! It’s not too hard once you get the pattern. I can show you once I finish-“

“I think I get it.” She shushes him. “Keith! I need you!”

“Wha-“ But before Keith can protest, Pidge is seated behind him and combing her fingers through his hair. They snag in a few small tangles.

“Pidge, I feel like I should really-“ Lance implores.

“Shhh shh, just let me try first.” She waves her hand. Keith gulps. 

She grows quiet as Keith feels his hair tugged and pulled in several directions. It feels nice, even if it’s a bit forceful. Her nails scratch against his scalp and send shivers down his spine. 

 

The good feelings evaporate when Keith hears a muttered:

“Son of a bitch.”

He smirks.

“Not going well?”

“I’m just gonna give you some nice pigtails.”

 

And in just a few minutes, Keith sports a very cute pair of plaited, small pigtails. Lance curses under his breath at the sight of them. Goddamn Pidge. Her failure has been reworked to unlock Keith’s hidden potential. He’s more powerful than ever now. 

 

“My face feels tight.” Keith scrunches his face and his mask cracks. Several grey pieces flake off and fall into his lap.

“Ooooh time to wash it off now!” Lance announces. He drags Keith and Hunk up to his bathroom, whilst the others use the downstairs facilities. Hunk only needs a few wipes with a washcloth to remove the panda mask’s residue, but Keith needs to intensely scrub using all of his strength. Lance helps him wash around his ears and get it out of his eyebrows. His skin feels a little raw afterwards, but undeniably soft. He smiles shyly and runs his knuckles over his cheek. 

 

“It’s nice, right?” Lance catches him. He rubs his own hands over Keith’s face. “Ooooh, so nice! I could touch you forever.” He chuckles. He grabs Keith’s hands and lifts them to his own face. 

“Here, feel my face! It’s super nice too!” 

Keith obliges. His fingertips run over Lance’s skin, which now glows and feels impossibly smooth, even with the few whiskers growing in. 

“Wow,” He sighs. His hands roam across Lance’s cheeks and temples. Lance closes his eyes. He hums in to the touch. 

“That’s nothing. Feel this!” Hunk wraps an arm around Keith and smooshes their faces together, cheek to cheek, and nuzzles against him. Keith groans and wriggles, but Hunk just holds him tighter, laughing the whole time. 

“Very nice.” Keith wheezes when he’s finally released. 

 

Lance insists they all put a final moisturiser on for the night before they go downstairs. Keith tries not to look too gleeful at having Lance’s hands on him again. 

 

They walk downstairs and into the living room to see Pidge fawning over Allura’s soft cheeks. She looks radiant with her hair still expertly braided and glowing skin.

“This is unfair, you’re supposed to look like a slob weirdo at sleepovers.” Matt whines. “I can’t compete with this.”

“Oh brother, you’re not even on the same track field.” Pidge squeezes Allura’s cheeks and teases. 

 

They gather around the TV for a few races of Mario Kart until they have digested their dinners _just_ enough to allow for them to pack their stomachs full of brownies. Hunk uncaps the Tupperware and the wave of chocolatey aroma is immediate. The anticipation grips the group as they politely wait for Hunk to hand them their desert. When Keith finally receives his brownie, it is gone shockingly quick. Hunk thankfully baked seconds, so Keith is sure to savour the next one. The group is completely silent, not even watching cartoons so they are distracted them from the experience. Everyone appears to be lost in their own private world of chocolatey heaven. Allura breaks the silence first. 

 

“Well… I think that definitely lived up to the expectations.” She licks her lips. Everyone else nods. 

“Hunk, you’re invited to every birthday, anniversary, and Holt Christmas forever now.” Pidge declares. Hunk blushes and waves off the compliments. 

“It’s nothing.” He beams.

“Sometimes, if we’re gonna be together backstage at a function, he brings all the guards cookies.” Keith sighs. Allura coos at the cute picture.

“What?! Keith! And you never save any for me?” Lance guffaws. 

“No way, Hunk’s cookies are practically a commodity.” He leans back on his hands and smirks. “Every man for himself.”

“I’d save you one!” Lance pouts.

“No you wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Lance sighs. 

 

After getting his ass whopped by Pidge in another round of Mario Kart, Keith catches the time. It’s after desert now and he feels like his evening is coming to an end. He sighs. 

“Guys, I’ve had a really awesome time tonight, but I think….” He stands. 

“Time’s up?” Hunk asks. 

“Yeah.” Keith nods. 

“Did you have fun?” Allura looks over hopefully.

“Oh yeah, of course.”

“Well then we’ll have to do it again sometime. And bring your own pyjamas.” Matt laughs.

“I think these work pretty well.” Lance stands up as well. He’s gathered Keith’s discarded suit in his arms, and his stomach still leaps at the sight of Keith in _his_ pyjamas in pigtails.

“They are quite nice.” Keith pats down his fuzzy legs.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you out.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No I want to. You’re my guest tonight.” Lance winks. 

 

They turn and Keith waves behind him at the chorus of “Bye Keith”s and “Drive safe”s. They walk past the kitchen that still smells lightly of garlic and through to the secluded entryway. Lance hands Keith his suit. 

 

“Oh,” Keith chuckles. “Sorry, I guess I should give you your clothes back.”

“Ah keep them.” Lance gently smiles. He steps a bit closer and lowers his voice. He licks his lips and Keith intently follows the motion.

“They look better on you anyway.”

“Doubtful.” Keith smirks. He holds Lance’s half lidded gaze. “Aren’t you the sexiest man alive?”

“Mmmm true, but…” Lance steps closer again. He slides his hand up the doorframe, caging Keith in. 

“I think you’re a close second.” He purrs. “Especially with this particular look.” He reaches out and gently fwips one of Keith’s pigtails. His fingertips brush along the shorter man’s jaw. Keith huffs a light laugh. He bites his lower lip and casts his eyes down. 

“Well I’m still going to give these pyjamas back to you tomorrow.”

“Mmm” Lance is distracted. His hand still rests against Keith’s neck. 

“And I’ll wash them of course!”

“I’m sure you will.”

 

And with an easy slide of his lips into a smile and a slight bend of his back, Lance lowers himself to kiss Keith. Gentle and sweet on the lips.

 

Keith reacts in the worst way possible. He responds in the only way that will inevitably make everything worse. 

 

He kisses Lance back. 

 

It’s short. Nothing that poems would be written about, or would make the cut of a romance movie, but there’s a definitive three seconds where Keith opens his mouth and presses back. Lance pulls away with a shuddering breath. His pupils are dilated and his hand cups Keith’s neck before he severs all contact. 

 

“Goodnight, Keith.” He smiles. 

“Goodnight, Lance. 

 

…

 

Keith does not process what has happened until he is laying in his bed later that night. His heart is still thudding in his chest and the smell of jasmine wafts up tauntingly from Lance’s shirt that he still wears.

 

“Well… fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the next chapter is likely the last. Hope I don't keep you waiting for too long.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Keith and Lance's feelings becoming more evident, their professional relationship becomes strained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the last chapter!
> 
> The last chapter was just getting SO LONG and I really wanted an update, so I decided to cut the last chapter in half. This also hits the narrative beats better, and will make the final chapter more of a FINALE.

In the morning, Keith drives to Lance’s apartment in complete silence. He focusses intently on the vibration of his car engine and the sounds of the tyres on the road. After a restless night of panic and not sleeping, he has has awoken in an eerily relaxed state. His mind is silent. No distracting thoughts drift through, and he feels in a daze as he parks and makes his way into the familiar apartment. He feels more comfortable now that he’s back in a suit. He’s more comfortable in the uniform stiff confine fabric, feeling his role become clearer and more defined.

 

Keith tuts as he walks into the living room and sees the pile of unconscious bodies still in their pyjamas. Pidge star fishes across Hunk, and Allura appears to be snuggling a stuffed animal. Matt was lucky enough to grab a couch, and Lance, despite having a perfectly good bed upstairs, has cocooned himself in a blanket and is spooning Hunk’s back. There’s an odd amount of marshmallows littering the floor.

 

Keith’s phone vibrates. He sees it’s Shiro announcing that he’s already downstairs. Keith buzzes him in and greets him in the entryway.

 

“You’re early.” He speaks quietly.

“Not too much.” Shiro shrugs. “Are they awake yet?”

“No.” Keith grins sharply. “Wanna help with that?”

“Oh absolutely.”

 

They creep quietly into the living area and Shiro chuckles at the sleeping bodies. He sighs. Then his lips quirk into a manic smile and he squats into a power stance.

 

“OH WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MORNING!~” He begins to bellow. It flashes Keith back to how Shiro would wake him up for high school and it appears to have a similar effect on the others. Hunk sits upright with a start, sending Pidge toppling. Allura jerks awake, and becomes tangled in her own hair. Matt’s eyes shoot open, but in an odd defence mechanism, does not sit up. Instead he grips onto the couch cushions for dear life. Lance audibly shouts.

 

Five vengeful glares focus on Shiro, but he regrets nothing. He places his hands on his hips and smiles widely.

“Ah, glad you all are awake now.” He chuckles. He turns his attention towards Allura. “Did you forget you have a meeting in two hours?”

“It’s a phone conference. I don’t need to have my face on.” She croaks. Shiro shakes his head.

“But you should at least sound a bit more awake.”

He begins to help Allura pack up her things. He shoves her sleeping bag in its carry pouch, whilst she runs to the guest bathroom and gets changed. She comes back out looking more herself, though relaxed in a tank top and her hair neatly re-braided.

 

Pidge, Matt, and Hunk also begin to groggily pack up their things. Matt is sure to retrieve all of his VHS tapes and detach his games consoles from the entertainment system. The siblings don’t bother to get changed, but Hunk at least puts on a pair of slacks. He raids the kitchen to make sure he has gathered all of his personal dishes, leftover ingredients, and tupperware containers.

 

When everyone has packed their things, they congregate in the entryway. They exchange hugs and promises to “do it again sometime.”. They all hug Lance and tell him that they had a wonderful time. Lance looks sleepy, but happy. Allura touches his shoulder and hopes that he’s feeling more inspired now.

“I think I’m definitely in a better place.” He smiles.

“Good, good.” She pats his cheek.

The friends leave and the apartment falls into silence. It feels unnatural.

 

Lance turns to look expectantly at Keith. A blush begins on his cheeks and he sheepishly starts to flatten out his bed head.

“Oh!” Keith remembers suddenly and shuffles back into the living area. Lance follows curiously. Keith reaches into his discarded shoulder bag, set down on the coffee table, and pulls out two neatly folded garments. He hands the washed pyjamas over to Lance.

“Here! I told you I’d clean them.” He smiles.

“Oh!” Lance laughs a little in surprise. “Thank you. I didn’t expect such a quick return.”

“I’m very efficient.”

“I noticed.” There’s a teasing lilt to Lance’s tone and Keith laughs. He sinks his hands into his pockets.

 

“So, did you have a good night?”

Lance drops his gaze. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and smiles. His ears turn pink.

“Yeah.” He answers quietly.

“Good.” Keith smiles. He misses how Lance glances up at him shyly.

 

He walks into the living area and gathers up the empty chip and popcorn bowls, stacking them in his arms, before walking into the kitchen and dumping them in the sink.

“More dishes than I remembered.” He comments as he rolls up his sleeves.

“We may have had more snacks when you left.” Lance shuffles guiltily. Keith starts the hot water.

“All that junk food will give you nightmares.”

“I had very sweet dreams actually.” Lance grins and begins to approach Keith from behind.

 

He wants to wrap his arms around him. Wants to hold Keith around his middle, pull him close and kiss his cheek. Would that be ok? Would Keith let him?

 

Keith looks soft and pretty washing dishes with the morning sun streaming in through the window. Lance decides not to push anything and to just appreciate the view. He watches with a lazy smile, admiring Keith’s forearms as he scrubs at a crusty baking pan. His eyebrows are pulled together with concentration. He unconsciously tucks a tuft of long hair behind his ear. Lance remembers how soft it had felt between his fingers.

 

“If you’re not going to help me, go take a shower at least.” Keith smirks over his shoulder. Lance is briefly shaken from his admiring.

“Huh?” He blinks.

“God, no more sleep overs for you for a while.” Keith scoffs. “You’re exhausted.” He wipes his wet hands on his pants then walks over. He grabs Lance’s shoulders and forcefully turns him around, pushing him towards the stairs.

“Go! Take a shower! You have a meeting with your film producers in two hours.”

“Ugh.” Lance trots towards the stairs. He looks like he is about to dutifully run up them, when he grabs onto the bannister and spins on his heel.

“I can’t convince you to join me?” He winks.

“Go!” Keith orders. “And don’t be ungrateful that I’m cleaning up _your_ mess.”

“Thaaaaank you.” Lance blows a kiss and runs up to his room.

 

He reemerges 30 minutes later, smelling of citrus and in a pressed burgundy button up and black, slim fit jeans. He finds Keith in the kitchen, now spotless, wiping the remaining flour crumbs from the counter. His sleeves are still rolled up to his elbows and Lance secretly hopes that’s where they stay for the rest of the day.

 

“Am I presentable now?” Lance sighs. Keith looks up from his task. He nods.

“It will do.” He states. He does a bad job of hiding his smile when he sees Lance’s insulted expression. Lance bumps their shoulders when he moves past.

“So mean to me.”

“Uh huh. Do you like your kitchen?”

“It looks great.” Lance’s eyes move over Keith’s handiwork. “Thank you.” He smiles at Keith earnestly.

“Not so mean then?”

“I was just teasing.”

“We have to head off now. Do you have everything?” Keith rolls down his sleeves and Lance whines at the loss. They walk over to the entryway and Keith slips on his suit jacket, completing his transformation into professional bodyguard.

 

“Yes.” Lance pauses. “Do we have time for breakfast?”

The elevator dings and they step in.

“You wasted your breakfast time exfoliating.”

“So mean.” Lance pouts.

 

Keith bites his cheek as he does some mental calculations. He rolls his eyes.

“If traffic is light we may have time.” He sighs. Lance applauds.

“Yay!”

 

…

 

Miraculously, the Saturday morning streets are only lightly populated, and the two are almost an hour early to the film studio. They pass through the boom gates and park in a designated spot. Keith feels out of sorts in the unfamiliar environment of painted backlots and luxurious trailers. People in elizabethan costume are whizzed past in a golf buggy and loud booms sound from the open door of a sound stage.

 

“Here, stay close now.” Lance takes his hand. “Don’t wanna lose you to the seductive glow of Hollywood.” He smiles widely.

 

Lance confidently navigates through the blocks and buildings until he reaches a small cafe in the middle of it all. It’s a standard looking cafe, shovelling out impressive amounts of take away coffees to people in suits and exhausted looking technicians in flannel. When Lance pushes the doors open with a chime, there is a distinctive silence that reverberates throughout the cafe. The silence of recognition.

 

The barista working the counter visibly stiffens. Her voice squeaks with nervousness when she speaks.

“Hello, sir. What can I get you this morning?” Her undoubtedly usual greeting sounds stilted and robotic. Keith is on high alert eyeing everyone in the cafe, not comfortable with how on display Lance is.

 

“Uhhhhhhhh…” Lance does not pay attention to any of this. He’s too focused on the chalk menu hanging on the wall boasting fresh squeezed juices and gluten free french toast.

“Can I get a cappuccino and the scrambled eggs on toast, and… Keith?” He looks over his shoulder. Keith sighs. He knows by now that protesting is useless.

“Can I get a latte and the vegetarian stack?”

“Ooh on a health kick?” Lance smirks.

“Adults eat vegetables sometimes, Lance.” Keith replies sharply. Lance laughs as he pays. He takes their table number and shows them to a table in the small courtyard. Keith is immediately more comfortable outside, away from speculating eyes.

 

Their coffees come quickly and the food is only a few minutes later. While it’s only a job for one service-person, two girls come out with their meals. Lance thanks them, but they don’t leave immediately.

“Um…” The braver of the two speaks up. “Sorry if this is out of line, and you can totally say no, but we’ve been fans of yours since your debut album and we were…”

“Oh!” Lance looks up from his coffee. “Do you want a photo?”

The girls nod.

“Oh yeah, sure.” Lance stands as one of the girls fumbles to pull out her phone. He stands in the middle and flashes up a peace sign and his trademark smile. The girls are practically giddy just being able to stand so close to him. They coo over the photos and thank him three more times before leaving.

 

“Do you ever get sick of that?” Keith looks over his mug of steaming coffee.

“Not when it’s genuine like that.” Lance smiles.

They begin to eat their breakfast in a comfortable silence and Keith is pleased when there are no more interruptions. He supposes seeing famous people on the lot is only natural, so he shouldn’t be surprised that they are mostly undisturbed.

 

“So this meeting today…” He cautiously drawls as he pulls his fork through a pool of yolk.

“Is it about a sequel?”

 

Lance smiles. He lowers his voice and moves slightly forward.

“Most likely, yes.” He grins.

“Will you agree to it?”

“It depends.” Lance sighs and leans back in his chair. He thoughtfully munches on a piece of toast. “Probably.”

A thrum of excitement moves through Keith. He’s never been anyone’s guard while they were actually _in_ a production. He’s curious about the process, about the other side of the lifestyle that Lance lives. The actual _job_ part.

 

“Do you think…?” He tries not to seem to eager. “Do you think I would be allowed on set at all? Like would they let me watch you film?”

“Oh, of course.” Lance beams. He leans forward once more and reaches his hand across the table, intertwining his and Keith’s fingers together.

“Even if we end up filming somewhere like Morocco I’m definitely taking you with me.” He chuckles. “I’ll get it in my contract somehow.”

Keith laughs and casts his gaze down.

“Well I would like that.”

 

They finish their breakfast and walk over to the producer’s office. A secretary greets them, then ushers them into a large office with a dark, wood deskin the centre and filing cabinets around the perimeter. A stoutly man, smothered by his suit, sits behind the desk. He looks at Coran warily, who is already seated. Lance takes the chair next to his manager. Keith remains standing next to the door.

 

A fat script is slipped across the desk and Lance flips through it. He reaches for the pen that is placed in front of him and readies to sign the contract that has been set out.

“Just hold on their Lancey boy.” Coran snatches the contract. He pulls out a pair of glasses from his breast pocket and eyes it suspiciously.

“I’ve had the chance to look at it and I don’t think you’re getting a fair deal here. Two million dollars? That’s all that you think my client is worth?” He scoffs.

“Well Coran, for his previous movie we only paid him one million. This is a significant pay rise. We think it shows how much we value him.” The producer states. Coran barks with laughter.

“But the film _made_ 500 million! And was critically acclaimed! A sequel is bound to rake in at least that again, but you’re looking at at least 700 million if you play your cards right. And you insult your star with this measly offer?” His voice gets high and strained.

“How much would you suggest?” The producer sighs.

“20 million dollars!” Coran slams his fist on the table. The producer gawks.

 

Everyone is silent for a palpable 10 seconds until the producer coughs.

“20 million?! Coran this isn’t the 90s! No actors get paid that much anymore.” He groans.

“Why are you lying to me? I know what actors get paid and that is perfectly reasonable for the star of your flagship franchise.” Coran’s moustache twitches with aggravation. The producer holds up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Alright, alright, I will concede that we can pay a bit more…” He rubs his chin. “3 million?”

“19.5 million and the copyright to his character.”

“5 million?”

“18 million and a chunk of the national forest.”

“7?”

“17 million and the Smithsonian museum costume collection!”

“Fine 10 million!”

“10 million!” Coran claps. “AND!” His voice pitches higher. “20% of the box office profits.”

“5%”

“15!”

“10!”

“DEAL!”

They shake hands aggressively, daring the other to break the contact first.

 

“Lance will sign your contract.” Coran smiles. “AFTER! He reads the script of course.” He is sure to proclaim.

“Don’t want you getting trapped in a dud now do we, Lance?” He elbows his client. Lance laughs nervously.

“I’ll get back to you in a week. I’m sure it’s great.” He is polite as he tucks the script back into his bag.

“E-mail me the contract and I’ll sign it for you when I’ve finished reading.”

“If it’s good!” Coran clarifies.

Keith finds it hard not to snigger at their back and forth.

 

Coran whisks Lance briskly out of the office with Keith trailing behind. As soon as they are out of sight and earshot, Lance’s lips pull back into a mischievous sneer.

“Ruthless as always, Coran.”

Coran puffs out his chest proudly.

“All in a day’s work, my boy!”

 

“I gotta admit, I was pretty impressed, Coran.” Keith laughs and falls into step. “Can I take you next time I need to buy a car?”

“Of course he’s great. I only hire the best.” Lance wraps his arm around his manager’s shoulders.

“Oh you two, you’ll make an old man giddy.” Coran waves them off.

He reminds Lance three more times to actually read the script and CC him into the email before he signs.

 

The drive home is filled with curious chatter. Keith starts to let his curiosity overcome him and he asks Lance about his job. Is $10 million a lot? Where does he put it all? Does he think he’ll sign? What would he refuse to do for a movie that he would renegotiate over? Lance laughs and answers all of Keith’s questions happily.

 

“$10 million is definitely a fair bit, but it’s not unusual for an action movie. It’s actually on the low side for a big blockbuster, but Coran is aware that I really only have one success under my belt.”

“Your rom coms weren’t successful?”

“They were! But this is a different ballpark all together.”

 

Lance openly admits he sends most of the money back to his family and community, which Keith had already figured out.

“That’s why your apartment has IKEA bookshelves?”

“I just need shelves! Not every piece of furniture has to be a statement!”

Keith laughs. He wonders what the inside of other A-list celebrity homes look like, whether Lance’s place has lured him into a false sense of what opulence is.

 

“And what I would say no to?”

“Yeah.”

Lance scratches his chin.

“Full nudity?”

“Really?”

“Nah.”

Keith laughs loudly. He closes his eyes and tosses his head back. Thankfully he is safely stopped at a traffic light.

“I actually don’t care about that too much. If a director needs me to get naked I’ll do it.”  
“Sexiest man alive after all.”

“Gotta give the people what they want.” Lance smirks. He winks. Keith rolls his eyes.

 

“I guess I would never wanna do like… anything _sexually_ violent?”

“Whoa.” Keith looks over his shoulder.

“It happens! That’s a line you’ve gotta draw!”

“That sucks you have to think about that.” He winces.

“Well thankfully I think I’ll always be cast as the hero or comedic relief, so I don’t have to worry too much.” Lance shrugs. “I don’t see that in my future, thankfully.”

 

They park in Lance’s garage and Keith follows his usual routine of escorting him into his apartment. Keith pauses in the doorway, not daring to fully come inside.

“Do you wanna stay? I could use a hand fixing up my entertainment system.” Lance chuckles. “I really shouldn’t let either of the Holt’s near it.”  
“I’d like to, but I need to debrief with Shiro and Hunk. Make sure they were comfortable with how things went.” Keith lies.

“Ah ok.” Lance sighs. He buys it. “Makes sense.”

“Take a nap. You still look tired.” Keith suggests. “Then read your script or else Coran will yell at you.”

“Alright, you have a point.”

“See you, Lance.” He nods. Lance moves in close.He hesitates. Keith freezes.

 

He hopes he doesn’t look as visibly terrified as he feels. Hopes Lance doesn’t see the way his eyes dart down to his lips with want and panic. Hopes Lance doesn’t hear his quick intake of breath.

 

Lance stops advancing. He reaches between them for Keith’s hand and gives it a soft squeeze.

“Let me know if we need to change anything before we can have another sleepover. I’d love to do it again.” He grins earnestly. Keith relaxes into the touch.

“Yeah, me too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it was… fun.” Keith shrugs. “I had a nice time.” He chuckles.

“Well I’m glad.” Lance bounces happily on his feet. He squeezes Keith’s hand again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Of course.” Keith gives a polite little bow. Lance chuckles. He steps back through the doorway and his grip slips.

“See you tomorrow.”

 

…

 

Keith continues to ignore the kiss, except for in his dreams. It has the desired effect in that his and Lance’s interactions return to a state of normalcy. Or at least as normal as they ever were. Lance still holds his hand more than he should and always invites him to stay over, but he never pushes. Never appears upset when Keith says that he can’t or has an early morning. Keith starts to stress less.

 

It was just a fluke. Just a one time thing. Hadn’t Lance been struggling with his sexuality? It’s normal to feel close to the only person you’re out to. That’s it. Lance just wanted to try it. It would not happen again. Impossible.

 

Keith’s heart sinks a little at the thought and he admonishes himself.

 

He picks Lance up for a fun activity this morning, or at least something to break the monotony of contract negotiations and retail therapy. He has a rehearsal for his closing performance at the American Music Awards and Keith is excited to watch him perform again.

 

Lance is dressed in his loosest tank and stretchiest leggings, ready to dance the day away. He has his water bottle packed as well as some snacks, like a kid going on a field trip. His mood is more playful. He nudges Keith as they walk to the theatre, poking him in his ribs.

“Are you going to watch me?”

“Of course. That’s what you pay me to do.”

“Yeah but I want you to have fun when you watch!” Lance groans. They walk through the empty seating and Lance hops onto the stage. “Sing along if you like!” He beams.

“I will have fun.” Keith admits. “But I will never sing.”

“Killjoy” Is all Lance manages to sigh before he is swept up by his choreographer and sound technicians.

 

The choreography is largely recycled from Lance’s last tour, so he picks it up quickly. He starts out playing the song by himself on his guitar, “Actually playing it!” he demands, refusing to fake play it even for a televised performance. He then tosses his guitar to a stage hand and breaks into a series of sharp, coordinated movements with his back up dancers. Keith knows that Lance is one of the few male pop-stars who dances, but watching his performance… he has to wonder why other male singers don’t try it. Because Lance is enigmatic. It’s impossible to look away. He elevates his song from just a recital to a _performance_. He is entertainment personified.

 

Keith can only assume no one else tries it because they just _can’t_ do it. Not like Lance can anyway.

 

Lance stops for lunch as the lighting technician begins running through his cues to the backing track. He sits on the edge of the stage, munching a sandwich, with lights flashing behind him. Keith hops up next to him and hands him his water bottle. He gratefully takes it and drinks with large gulps. His collarbones are gleaming with sweat and his hair sticks to his forehead.

“Thanks.” He pants.

“Working hard?” Keith asks.

“Not really working. It’s fun! But yeah it is hard when you drill it over and over.” Lance happily munches.

“Well it looks like you’re having fun. I’m surprised more singers don’t try it.”

“They can’t handle it.” Lance playfully smirks and nudges Keith in the ribs. Keith pushes him back. He takes a cheeky bite of Lance’s sandwich.

“Hey!” Lance snatches it back.

Keith smiles around his chewing.

 

“You’re nominated for an award at this thing, yeah?” He asks.

“Oh yeah!” Lance sits up straight. “Yeah my album is, but so are the Holt’s. I don’t really expect I’ll win.” He shrugs. “But that’s okay. I know my music isn’t great art or anything.”

“Maybe not, but it makes a lot of people happy. And I think songs like yours as just as important nowadays as the… art ones.” Keith offers. “I think you deserve to get something.”

Lance blinks at him before his mouth pulls back into a smile and his eyes crinkle at the corners. He chuckles softly.

“Well I appreciate that.”

 

Lance finishes his lunch and is pulled back to finish his rehearsal. With the lights and live sound now going, it becomes a spectacle. Keith feels excited for Lance to share this with an audience, for everyone to know how multi-talented his client is. Something like pride swells in his chest.

 

It’s at 4pm when the director is finally satisfied. He tells Lance and the team of dancers they are free to go, but gives them a run down of how the next dress rehearsal will run. Lance barely escapes before he’s reminded for the third time not to be late. He pulls on a sweatshirt so he doesn’t freeze in the car ride home.

 

Lance is quiet for most of the drive, drifting in and out of sleep as his exhaustion catches up with him. His sweaty hair dries into a stiff mess. Keith leaves him at his apartment, stumbling up the stairs for a shower.

 

…

 

Keith finishes his dinner of beef stroganoff with sauce from a jar when his phone buzzes. He looks at Lance’s name flashing on his screen skeptically. It’s not normal for Lance to contact him outside of his scheduled shifts. Unless of course they have another impromptu vacation coming up.

 

_Hey! Come early tomorrow. Let’s go running together :)_

 

Keith looks at it, thinks it a bit odd to break routine, but he’s never had a running mate before. He usually enjoys the serenity, but figures if Lance runs how he commits to any other task… he could probably stand to be pushed. And Keith might just be a little bit excited to show off. He knows only Shiro has managed to keep up with him before.

 

_Sure. I’ll be there at 7am._

 

…

 

7am in California is warm and the last few brushes of pink and lilac stain the horizon. Keith stands on Lance’s doorstep in his black leggings and dry-fit t-shirt. His hair is knotted up in a high ponytail. Lance shows up looking surprisingly well rested. His legs are extra naked and long in his high cut shorts. The v of his tank top cuts deep down his chest, exposing the divot between his pectorals.

“You ready?” He asks looking chipper. Keith nods.

“Do you go up the road or-?”

“Up the road?” Lance scoffs. “Keith, Keith, I’m a celebrity remember?”

 

He takes Keith’s hand and leads him down a gated path. The bushes on either side turn from lush topiaries into patchy and hardy salt bush. Eventually the earth becomes sandy and the only foliage remaining are the thin wisps of grass sitting atop yellow sand dunes. Keith hears the ocean before he sees it. The dark blue waves crash on the isolated shoreline. The air is salty and crisp in the early morning.

 

“There are definitely some perks to being paid well.” Lance smiles. His skin looks golden in the sun’s first rays peeking over the darkness of the ocean.

“You warmed up?” He steps into a lunge and makes a show of stretching, dipping impressively low.He grunts a bit, stepping together and keeping his legs perfectly straight as he puts his hands flat on the ground. He wiggles his ass a bit.

“Are you quite finished?” Keith smirks. He stretches out his quads quickly.

“Are you looking?” Lance looks back at him from between his legs.

“I’m trying to be polite.” Keith keeps his eyes trained on his feet.

“Then I order you to be rude.”

Keith pushes him and takes off running. He laughs as his feet slap against the boardwalk. Lance shrieks before steadying himself and sprints to catch up.

 

Lance. Is. Fast.

 

He runs at a speed that Keith struggles to keep up with. Lance’s long legs carry him like a gazelle across the beach, looking relaxed and free. Keith is ashamed that he spends the majority of the first half of the run staring at his back.

 

But then there is a definitive moment where the tides change. Lance has incredible speed, but Keith’s endurance is unbeatable. Lance slows to an easy jog, desperately wanting to turn back, but Keith keeps pushing him on.

“Just up to that fence ahead.” He pants. He has Lance’s hand and runs backwards, tugging him with him.

“Keith, nooo…” Lance whines. He falls against his chest and wraps his arms around his neck. It’s hot. Keith feels both of their heart beats crashing against their ribs. Lance’s breath is warm and humid against his ear. It comes out in stuttered gasps.

“It’ll be good for you, come on.” Keith’s hands grip onto Lance’s elbows. He smiles sweetly, pleading for Lance to follow as he starts to jog backwards.

“Stay with me, Lance.”

“UGH.” Lance is too weak to refuse. His aching legs manage to limp on.

“That’s it! You’re doing great!”

 

Lance thanks every deity when he reaches the fence line and is allowed to collapse on the sand. It sticks to his sweaty back, but he barely registers it. Keith stoops over him, mockingly fine and breathing normally after a minute.

“Can you bring the car around?” Lance whines. Keith sits on the sand next to him, watching the sun rise higher. The breeze feels cool whipping across his sweat soaked chest and shoulders.

“I’ll give you some minutes to recover before we walk back.”

“In a few minutes my soul will have completely left me body.”

Keith laughs.He grins at Lance’s dramatics, but just as he expected, in only a few minutes his breathing returns to normal and he curls up on the sand, scooting closer.

“Makes me miss Cuba.” Keith sighs.

“Thats why I bought this place. Reminds me of home.” Lance raises up to sit cross legged. He drapes an arm across Keith’s shoulders and leans into his side. He closes his eyes and sighs.

“We gotta go back sometime. Let me take you snorkelling. You’ll love it.”

“Sounds nice.”

“You know what else is nice?”

“Mmm?”

“Breakfast smoothies.”

Keith rolls his eyes. He stands, then tugs Lance up onto his shaky legs.

“You know a place?”

“Of course I do. It’s California. There’s a kale smoothie place on every corner.”

 

They walk down the boardwalk, further than Lance’s apartment block, until the path turns into an upscale hipster shopping district. The place is teeming with beautiful people in work out clothes grabbing acai bowls and business men in suits doing espresso shots like they might have a problem. There’s a day spa and an organic produce shop. Lance takes Keith to a food truck with an open air courtyard. He orders himself a mango, strawberry and banana smoothie with a protein boost, and Keith gets their green smoothie with kale, spinach, cucumber, and pineapple. Lance winces at the green sludge.

“Try it.” Keith thrusts it towards him. He does. He admits it’s not so bad. Keith steals a sip of Lance’s fruity concoction.

“So sweet.” He smacks his lips together.

“Just like me.” Lance winks.

 

They walk back to the apartment. In hindsight, Lance is thankful for the walk to help stretch out his muscles. His legs would definitely have seized up by now otherwise, and his smoothie almost makes the pain all worth it.

“So what are we doing today?” Keith asks, slurping on the last dregs oh his drink.

“You know that gala dinner I have to attend?” Lance smiles.

“Yeah?”

“I need a new outfit.”

“Oh goody.” Keith groans. Lance knows he’s not particularly fond of shopping escorts.

 

They pause in the lobby of Lance’s building, tossing their empty smoothies into the garbage.

“I should go back to my place to shower and change. I can be back here in an hour. I know you’ll take at least that long to get ready.” Keith teases.

“What? That’s ridiculous. Just use my shower.” Lance scoffs.

“I need clothes, Lance.”

“I’m sure I still have some of your clothes.” Lance’s eyes narrow in thought. “I think I kept a bag in the closet.

“Are they a suit though?”

“They’ll be fine. You don’t have to look like the mafia all the time.”

“Lance-“

“C’mon, be cute and casual for a day!”

Lance has managed to pull him into the elevator and Keith knows he’s lost.

 

Lance shows him to the guest bathroom, fully stocked with hair care, face and body wash, and shows him the fresh towels.

“I’ll leave your clothes on the bed for you. Take your time! Don’t forget to moisturise!” Lance waves and closes the door behind him.

 

Keith peels his sweat soaked clothes off and tosses them onto the polished floor tiles. They fall with a gross weight. He steps into the spacious shower and the two heads surprise him. He feels assaulted by the deluge of water, confused as to where he should stand. Rich people make very unnecessary changes to simple things. He finally manages to find a good position. He curiously smells the products that are on display and decides to indulge himself. He had liked the way his skin felt after he had used that face mask, so maybe he would enjoy this just as much? He uses the shampoo as normal, but that’s where his usual routine ends. Conditioner is a term he’s heard before, and he feels he at least understands the basics of it. It’s the same procedure as shampoo, right? His hair feels slippery afterwards and it takes a long time to wash out. He wonders if that’s normal.

 

He uses a jasmine smelling face wash labelled “normal skin”, because Keith guesses it is the safest. If it’s good for _normal_ skin, then it can’t be _bad_ for his skin…. whatever his skin type may be. There’s a clean loofah and Keith picks a coconut smelling body wash to lather up his torso. It wipes away the last remnants of sweat and smell from his body.

 

Keith isn’t sure if all those steps are necessary, but he has to admit that he does feel particularly clean and relaxed when he is finished. He dries himself off with a fluffy towel and tip toes into the bedroom. He’s self conscious as he lets his towel drop and stands completely naked in the strange room. Sure enough, Lance has laid out clothes on the bed. There’s even a set of new underwear. Keith tries not to think about why that is as he pulls them on along with the pair of slim-fit, black jeans. He then looks curiously at the plain white t-shirt and collared shirt printed with red cranes. He purses his lips at it, unsure if it will suit him.

 

But it’s all he has. He thinks he’s supposed to wear it open and over the top of the white t-shirt, so he tries that. He’s looking at himself in the mirror when there’s a soft knock.

“Are you decent?” Lance asks.

“I have clothes on.” Keith confirms. Lance enters the room with a pair of canvas shoes in hand. He finds Keith staring at himself in the mirror, mouth pursed and eyebrows scrunched as he fiddles with his collared shirt. He starts to tuck it in, then decides not to. Fold the sleeves? Don’t fold the sleeves? Lance briskly walks over to save him.

 

“Here,” His voice is soft. He untucks his over shirt and with surprising dexterity, folds Keith’s sleeves up so that most of his bicep is visible.

“There.” He pats Keith’s chest when he’s done. “All finished. You look great.”

“Yeah? I feel like it’s too young.” Keith glances at himself in the mirror. The frown returns to his face.

“Don’t be silly. Mmm,” Lance hums. He holds onto Keith’s hips as he steps in close. He runs his nose along Keith’s jaw and breathes. Keith feels his breath tickle the juncture between his neck and ear.

“You smell nice.” He purrs. Keith swallows.

“I just smell like you.”

“Yeah, but I like that.” Lance grins.

 

Keith rolls his eyes and pushes Lance out of his space.

“Just give me those shoes so we can go.”

 

…

 

Keith follows Lance’s directions to a new shopping district. Instead of the glass buildings labelled with “Chanel” or “Armani” in gold lettering, these boutiques are much smaller. They are staffed by trendy-20 somethings and off-beat trap music plays loudly over their sound systems. Each store appears to represent a handful of up and coming designers that Keith is unfamiliar with, but their price tags boast a sense of confidence that you _should_ know who they are.

 

Lance takes him into a store that has an entire wall dedicated to drop crotch pants. Keith quickly scans the space and sees that it is empty except for the two sales assistants.

“Hey, could we get this place locked up while we’re in here?” He asks. The sales assistants wrinkle their noses in annoyance, not sure why this no-name is being so demanding… until they catch sight of who is behind him. Lance takes off his sunglasses and stares pointedly at the two of them.

 

“Oh! Oh yes- right- yes! I’ll get that!” The girls scramble to recover themselves and move to the front door where they lock it. One slaps up a “closed for private function” handwritten sign before running back to their desk.

“Thanks.” Keith smiles kindly. “Sorry, just a safety precaution. We won’t be long.”

“Oh take your time! No rush!”

 

Lance barely pays them any mind, instead turning his focus on the racks of jackets. Keith follows him and begins to flick idly through the clothing.

“So what are you looking for? Not a suit I gather.”

“No,” Lance chuckles. “That’s far too boring and predictable. I like to have fun with it.” He finds a blue velvet jacket and holds it up.

“Fun?” He asks.

“Sure for the playboy mansion.” Keith teases. Lance sighs and puts it back.

 

He makes himself a nice pile of things to try on and the sales assistants are more than willing to carry them into a fitting room. Keith goes to sit on a spare arm chair and wait this whole thing out when he feels a grip on his elbow.

“You need to come help me pick!” Lance starts to pull him towards the fitting rooms.

“What? Lance I don’t know anything about fashion.” Keith plants his feet.

“What’s there to know? Just tell me if I look good or not, c’mon.”

Not wanting to make a scene, Keith lets himself be tugged into the fitting room. It is claustrophobic and clearly not made for two people.

 

This becomes more apparent when Lance whips off his shirt and strips down to his underwear. Heat floods Keith’s cheeks.

“Why do I have to be in here for this?” He hisses. Lance does not register his discomfort as he grabs a matching sea foam, green, blazer and matching trousers with a peach floral print. He buttons a white shirt to go underneath, then slips on the jacket.

“It’s just easier this way. I don’t like having to parade out there for every outfit.”

“Could have fooled me. Don’t you love parading yourself around?”

“Yeah, but I like making you blush more.”

Lance wins this round of teasing. Keith’s frown deepens, which only makes Lance laugh harder.

 

He finishes buttoning his pants and turns towards Keith with his arms held out wide.

“Well? Thoughts?” He pauses.

“Are you supposed to look like a grandma’s couch?”

“I knew you’d hate it.” He mumbles and immediately begins unbuttoning his pants.

“Then why ask my opinion?”

“Because it matters to me!” Lance pouts.

 

Keith shuts up. He worries his bottom lip, wincing as he feels more heat rush to his cheeks. His opinion _shouldn’t_ matter… but knowing that it _does_ sends a joyous thrum across his chest. He looks over at the pile of clothing in the corner. He scratches his chin, then sheepishly points.

“You should try that blue one. You look nice in blue.” He mumbles. Lance softens. He smiles gently and reaches for the blue blazer with a metallic sheen. He shrugs it on and Keith sees that there is a smattering of embroidered flowers clustered around his hip and shoulder. Their intricate threads catch the light, but are not overwhelming like the last suit.

 

“Pretty.” Keith offers. It’s all he has. He does not know the proper words to talk about cut or fit or contrast. He can’t talk cultural references or how this style was a trend in the spring of 2015 because of the Versace collection… he just knows that it makes Lance look very nice. It feels more playful than a traditional navy suit, which feels very representative of who Lance is.

“Thanks.” Lance looks at himself in the mirror, turning over his shoulder. He pulls on the matching blue trousers, with embroidery at his ankles, and nods.

“This will go in the maybe pile.”

“Oh jeez.”

 

Keith is trapped in the fitting room for another 20 minutes. He rejects the plain silver jacket, saying it’s not flashy enough for Lance. He says no to a bedazzled bomber jacket that says “Nasty” in glitter, because Lance should at least pretend to be classy. He says no to jeans, jumpsuits, biker jackets, cropped jackets and so on. Several items are tossed onto the maybe pile, but the reject pile grows. Lance does not look frustrated though. He laughs and giggles at Keith’s disgusted faces and encourages him to voice his true feelings.

“I got all day, don’t worry. We’ve got hours.” He soothes when Keith worries he’s wasting Lance’s time. It does help him feel better.

 

“What’s that one?” He sees what looks to be an ordinary black jacket buried underneath the pile of pastels and neons. Keith wonders what about it made Lance even bother to bring it into the room.

“Oh this?” Lance asks. It’s on the very bottom of the pile. “It might be a bit flashy, but I thought it was interesting.”

He pulls out the jacket and Keith feels himself gasp. Silvery-blue, metallic, threads embroider up the jacket’s back and chest in an elaborate filigree like pattern, but the ornate design isn’t what Keith reacts to. It’s the crystals, clear blue and reflective, woven into the threads, that makes Keith come closer. They vary in size and shape, but all of them twinkle and cast dapples of light on the ground and walls.

“Try it on.” He breathes. Lance’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but he does as he’s told.

 

He puts a black shirt on for this jacket, wanting the metallic threads to really pop. When he swings the jacket onto his shoulders, that’s when Keith sees the crystals at at the hem. They are strung like garlands, looping up and down, off the jacket framing Lance’s hips. In the direct light of the fitting room, he is dazzling.

 

“This one.” Keith whispers. “I like this one best.”

Lance looks at himself in the mirror. He hums as he actively plays with the reflections he casts on the floor. He flips over the price tag in his sleeve.

“Oof, you have expensive taste.” He wheezes.

“I’m sorry! Go back to the floral one, you don’t have to-“

“Stop, it’s fine.” Lance chuckles. “Besides, I saw the look on your face. I _have_ to get this one now.” He gently pats Keith’s cheek. Keith closes his eyes and sighs at the soothing touch.

“Ok, but don’t let me hear them ring you up.”

“I won’t.”

 

Lance goes over to pay for the jacket, matching slacks, and collared shirt. The sales assistants ooh and ah at his choice, complimenting his taste and saying it’s one of their favourites. Keith plants himself by the front door, away from the discussion of payment.

 

“So!” Lance hops out onto the sidewalk, cheerfully swinging his shopping bag back and forth. “Shall we get lunch?”

“Lance, we should really head back.” Keith places his hand on the small of his back and steers him towards the car. “Or you can grab something if you like, but I’ll wait.”

This answer does not satisfy Lance. He presses himself close and bats his eyelashes.

“I’ll take you to that place you liiiiike~” He beams. Keith pauses. He looks up at Lance’s puppy dog eyes with conviction.

“Do you have your wig on you?” He sighs. Lance’s smile brightens, knowing he’s about to score another lunch date.

“Sure do!”

Keith barely resists anymore and he hates how easily he bends.

“Alright.”

 

…

 

Lance trots happily into the cafe, the one with the courtyard filled with enough plants that it feels like you’re eating in a greenhouse. Keith is thankful that they are served by a different waiter this time, but he also seems to smile knowingly at the two of them. He asks what the they are up to for the day.

“Shopping.” Lance beams.

“Oh, my favourite.” The waiter laughs. “But I suspect you might not like it as much.” He looks over at Keith. Keith shrugs.

“I like it okay.”

“I’m slowly wearing him down.” Lance smirks.

“Well keep going, it sounds like it’s working.”

 

Lance orders himself a mojito, feeling summery and festive, and a fresh squeezed watermelon and mint juice for Keith. Keith sips on it with a content expression. The sun is warm, but he and Lance are lucky to be in a shady spot, surrounded by blooming birds of paradise and buttercups. A water feature trickles pleasantly behind them. Keith closes his eyes and listens to the water and the breeze in the leaves.

 

“You really like it here, huh.” Lance chuckles.

“I like being outside.” Keith keeps his eyes closed. “And I grew up in the desert so plants I guess…” His voice grows soft. “I just really like them.”

He expects teasing or some kind of snide remark, but Lance just smiles at him. His chin is propped in his hand and his eyes are lidded, so he looks sleepy, but content.

“Have you been to the rose garden in Exposition park?” He asks.

“No.”

“Would you like to? Do you like gardens and stuff like that?”

“When I was in high school, we were learning about botany and we had a field trip to my town’s tiny botanical gardens. That’s really my only experience.” Keith laughs. “But i liked it! And I always spend too much time in the plant section of the hardware store.” He starts to feel self conscious and tucks a bit of hair behind his ear.

“Sorry, that must sound dumb.”

“Nothing you say sounds dumb. Let’s do it!” Lance grabs his hand. Keith blinks owlishly.

“I’ll take you to all the gardens in the city! The rose garden, the Japanese garden, Oh! There’s also one attached to the zoo! Lets go to the zoo, Keith, just you and me. We’ll spend the whole day together, and then we’ll have a picnic in the gardens, and then I’ll take you out for dinner and-“

Keith laughs. He laughs because Lance’s excitement is so infectious. It’s so endearing and attractive, and Keith finds himself imagining all the situations vividly. He thinks about strolling through gardens hand in hand. He thinks about laying in the grass together, looking up at clouds.

“You’d do all that? Aren’t you a bit busy?”

“I’m never too busy for you.” Lance sighs. He rubs his thumb over Keith’s and this shocks his system. Reality feels like electricity in his veins.

 

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Keith is never too busy for _Lance._ Keith is never too busy for his _boss._ Lance should not be doing anything for him. He shouldn’t be interrupting his schedule just to take Keith out on excursions and dates.

 

Dates.

 

They’re dates.

 

“Here, taste this.” Lance holds up a forkful of his vermicelli. Keith opens his mouth and Lance feeds him.

“Good, right?”

Keith nods.

 

It’s good.

 

It’s so good.

 

But it’s not allowed to be this good.

 

Keith is scared.

 

…

 

Keith allows himself to sleep in the next morning. Thankfully, he does not need to be at Lance’s until the late afternoon to take him to his gala. Keith’s feelings are still turbulent after yesterday. He barely slept, his brain busy strategising how to slowly build up the walls between him and Lance again… that is if he even wants to. He’d have to stop the lunch dates, but he really likes those, and of course he’ll have to put an end to Lance buying him gifts… but that would be rude. Lance really likes buying him things, so who is he to say no?

 

Maybe it’ll be ok. He’ll just leave it. Keep rolling with things as they are now and it’ll be ok. He hasn’t done anything wrong yet.

 

_I did kiss him._

 

Well okay besides that. It’s fine. It’s fine. No one needs to know about that, and no one has caught on to them yet. This whole thing will blow over. It has to.

 

He walks to the grocery store hoping to clear his head. He decides to try a new recipe, one for a pomegranate and chicken salad he saw online. It looked fresh, and would be a welcome break from the amount of pasta he’s been eating lately. He puts his earbuds in and listens to some soft music as he wanders up the aisles, picking out produce, meats and different dressings. He passes the baking aisle and sees a box for Betty Crocker brownies. He knows they won’t be as good as Hunk’s, but maybe they would still be nice? He can share them with Hunk sometime as a thank you. He places the box in his basket.

 

He goes over to the checkouts, pulling his earbuds out to be polite. He’s loading up his goods on the conveyor belt when his curious eyes wander over to the celebrity gossip magazines. They still make Keith angry, but the lies have gotten ridiculous enough lately that he almost finds them funny. Pregnancy rumours about Lance’s exes are especially funny to Keith, who knows Lance hasn’t seen any of them for close to six months now.

 

Three magazines have Lance on the cover today. An unusually high amount.

 

_Lance McClain and his new lover - a man?_

 

_Lance McClain’s secret gay affair exposed!_

 

_Lance shows off hot new BOYfriend - Plaxum SHOCKED and JEALOUS!_

 

Keith’s eyes widen. His jaw goes slack. He stares at the magazines and forgets how to breathe. Rumours around Lance’s sexuality have been simmering since his Sexiest Man Alive photoshoot, but they’ve never been front page news. Even the paparazzi could not dig up enough content to make it front page worthy… until now.

 

Because Lance’s new secret lover? The supposed boyfriend he’s been flaunting around at the beach?

 

It’s him.

 

Keith’s heart stops as he sees himself on the covers of these magazines. He and Lance running on the beach together, a blurry photo of them sitting in the sand and Lance’s arm around his shoulders. The two of them sitting at that cafe at the film studio, their hands obviously linked. Both of them coming out of the clothing boutique, smiling brightly and laughing as Lance tugs him towards the car.

 

Keith panics. He grabs two of the magazines and tosses them on top of his groceries. He ignores the cashiers pleasantries, too filled with rage and panic to hear her over the thudding in his ears.

 

His walk home is a blur, and he’s barely conscious of putting away his groceries and dressing in his best suit. He drives to Lance’s apartment in silence. The agitation under his skin almost itches. He is going to deal with this _tonight_. No more cowardice, no more even _considering_ his feelings. He has to be upfront about this. Lay down the law and put Lance in his place.

 

He stomps into the apartment like how a boxer steps into a fighting ring. Fists clenched and shoulders squared. He marches into the living area, bracing himself, following the sound of soft guitar.

 

Lance sits on the couch, clearly unshowered, and in only his boxer briefs. A guitar sits in his lap and he plucks at the strings so they ring in a sweet, melancholy tune. He frowns at his fingers, then scribbles something down on a piece of paper. His concentration is only broken when Keith drops his shoulder bag. Lance’s head snaps towards the noise.

 

“Keith!” He beams. His eyes soften and his bedhead catches the afternoon sun. It sticks up adorably in different directions.

 

Keith immediately melts. He forgets his fears and the magazines and finds himself completely consumed by the warm feeling in his stomach. He smiles and walks forwards.

“Hi,” He greets gently. “Writing?”

“Trying to.” Lance rolls his eyes. “But I really just have this chord progression so far.”

He plays a slow, relaxing melody. His fingers get away from him at one point and he improvises a little with his fingering. Keith thinks he might be showing off. He chuckles and sits next to him.

“It sounds nice.” He smiles wider. “You got any lyrics?”

“Nothing concrete.” Lance shakes his head. A devilish smirk appears on his lips and he scoots closer.

“Maybe words would come easier if I dedicated this song to you?”

“Oh Jesus…”

“Ohhhh Keith!” Lance begins to dramatically sing. Keith groans loudly as his fingers start up the familiar tune again.

 

“ _I hated your cheap suits,_

_but you laughed and gave in to_

_my pursuits.”_

 

“You can’t rhyme suits with suits that’s cheating.” Keith scoffs. Lance presses his fingers to his lips.

“Shhh, shh my muse, I’m creating.”

Keith smirks against his fingertips.

 

_“We hopped on a plane_

_and flew over the ocean._

_You tired your hair back_

_and your neck drove me insaaaane_

 

_Oh Keith, your eyes shine so bright_

_when you run on the beach_

_in the mooooorning light._

 

_And I’m begging you…_

_To stay_

_with me_

_Tonight.”_

 

He finishes his serenade and leans forwards. His hand is on Keith’s thigh and his eyes flutter closed. He angles his head to close the distance between their lips.

 

Keith flinches. He places his hand firmly on Lance’s chest, preventing him from advancing further.

“What are you doing?” He breathes.

Lance opens his eyes. He looks in confusion between Keith’s blank expression and the hand on his chest.

“I’m trying to kiss you.”

“Why?”

“Why?!” Lance scoffs. He pulls back sharply. “Keith I…” He lets his guitar fall onto the ground.

“Keith I _like_ you. I want to be with you. I… I thought I made that clear…” His face falls and his mouth opens and shuts noiselessly several times.

“I thought… Don’t… Don’t you like me too?”

 

Keith sits silently on the couch. He stares at his feet and hears nothing but white noise rushing through his ears.

 

“What do you feel, Keith?” Lance tries again.

“It doesn’t matter what I feel.” Keith whispers. He pushes himself onto his feet, needing distance. He feels suddenly claustrophobic.

“Doesn’t matter?! Keith that’s crazy!”

“We _can’t_ be together, Lance. There’s no way, so it doesn’t matter if I - I want us to be together. I’m not _allowed_ to have feelings for you.” He starts to pace. “I’ll be fired.”

“Only if they find out.” Lance offers.

“They _always_ find out.” Keith halts. Panic rises in his throat. His voice shakes. “Shiro is already suspicious, I’m sure Hunk knows something is up… There’s-!” He stomps over to his bag and rips out the magazines he purchased earlier. He throws them down onto the coffee table with a thud.

“That’s _us,_ Lance!” Keith huffs. Lance scowls at the covers. He worries his bottom lip and begins to flick through the pages.

“I’m your _bodyguard,_ I shouldn’t be having my photo taken and spread across magazine covers. I’m supposed to be the one who no one pays attention to. If I start getting recognised, then your safety gets compromised!”

 

He steps back. He turns around so he doesn’t have to look at Lance’s sorrowful expression anymore. He sighs and pulls his fingers through his hair, staring out the window as he tries to even out his breathing.

“Maybe I should ask for a transfer.” He mumbles under his breath. “If I’m not seen around you, then the rumours will stop.”

“No!” Keith’s musings make Lance fearful. It’s the worst possible scenario for him. He jumps up and grabs Keith’s hand.

“No, Keith, no. Please don’t transfer. Please!” He’s on the edge now. There’s a lump forming in his throat.

“You said so yourself! With this job you don’t have time for anyone else! I won’t get to see you anymore, and if I do it’ll be just at functions where I can’t-“

“You’re being selfish.” Keith rips his hand away.

“YES!” Lance shouts.

 

It booms throughout the whole house, shaking off of the marbled floors and high ceilings. Keith’s eyes widen at the outburst. He is knocked speechless. Tears start to pour freely down Lance’s cheeks. He speaks through hiccups and tremors that rock his body.

 

“When it comes to you, yes! I am selfish! I can’t help it!” He tries to breathe.

“I wanna be with you all the time! I want to monopolise you and have everyone know you’re mine! I wanna kiss you whenever I want. I-I want to wake up next to you everyday and make you eggs and -and take you to places you’ve always wanted to go! I wanna run my fingers through your hair and teach you how to surf and…” He’s struggling to get the words out now he’s trembling too violently. Something has broken in Lance and all of his unspoken feelings come rushing forth. Keith feels like he’s drowning. He takes a shaky breath.

 

“Lance…” He places a steadying hand on Lance’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I _need_ this job. I don’t have a lot of savings. I can’t afford to lose it.”

“I have money!” Lance looks up with watery, pleading eyes. The gears in his head are whirring at a desperate pace, trying to search for all possible ways in which he can keep Keith. He latches on to an idea with naive enthusiasm.

“I’ll just keep paying you!” He smiles. “I can set up a direct deposit-“

“I don’t _want_ a sugar daddy!” Keith hisses. Lance’s proposal feels like poison to him. Unhealthy and gross.

“You can’t just buy me! I’m not some prostitute that you pay and I let you fuck me.” He spits.

“Keith! That’s not-!”

“Mr McClain!”

 

Keith’s words fly like shards through the air that pierce Lance’s lungs. He feels winded. Frozen in place, like the world has shaken violently underneath him.

 

Keith sighs.

“You are going to be late for your gala dinner if you don’t start getting ready, sir.” His voice is eerily calm and robotic. How easily Keith slips back into his role of distant servant shocks Lance to witness. It hurts to see how quickly Keith can build those walls up again, as if he hasn’t been effected by this at all. That _Lance_ has not effected him at all.

 

Lance nods wordlessly. He turns, and marches up to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Its thud echoes thought the house.

 

…

 

Lance looks radiant in his sparkling blazer and swept back hair, but Keith does not comment on it. The two drive in dead silence to the art museum that this gala is being held at. When they arrive, the shouting of paparazzi feels overwhelming. Keith winces at the flashing lights and onslaught of directions being yelled at Lance. He tosses his keys to the valet, then takes up his spot towards the rear of the red carpet, ghosting Lance as he walks up it. Lance hits the marks and looks handsome as he poses for the cameras… but he does not stop for any interviews. This worries Keith. As rough a day as Lance has had, he’s always managed to seperate his personal mood from his job performance, but here he must feel that he cannot do that. He smiles pleasantly, but waves off the requests. He moves quickly up the carpet.

 

They reach the courtyard, out of range of the public, and Lance beelines for the open-air bar. The server hands him a free champagne, which he guzzles down quickly. He picks up another to maintain a certain appearance and sips it.

“I wanna look around the exhibition before dinner.” He states. Keith nods.

“Sure thing.”

 

He follows Lance silently, neither one talking to the other, as they wander throughout the art museum. They look at a series of modern art paintings that resemble scribbles and dots and Keith wonders what Lance thinks of them. He wonders if he enjoys art or if he just goes to these things because it’s expected of him.

 

But Keith stays silent.

 

They move into a room filled with ceramic sculptures painted with brightly coloured dots, then into another room, once again filled with modern paintings. These are less abstract though, as Keith at least recognises what some of the contorted forms are supposed to be. He squints at a canvas from over Lance’s shoulder. He think it’s a deer?

 

“Lance? Lance!” A tall figure emerges from around the corner. He too carries a glass of champagne, and he walks towards Lance with long, purposeful strides.

“Lotor,” Lance nods courteously. Lotor’s hair is pulled in a high ponytail that spills down his back. The silver strands stand out strikingly against his aubergine suit.

“I’m so glad I caught you. I wanted to offer my sincerest apologies that I missed our joint photoshoot together.” Lotor’s voice is smooth like honey.

“Oh!” Lance smiles. “It’s fine. Things happen! We’re both busy people, I completely understood.”

“Well I must say, when I saw the photos…” He raises an eyebrow and steps in closer. His voice drops to a low whisper.

“I was very disappointed that I was not involved.” His mouth curls into a flirtatious smile and he licks his lower lip. “It seemed like it was a fun time.”

“It was okay. I’m never comfortable with photoshoots though.” Lance laughs. He tries to play himself off as oblivious, like he doesn’t notice Lotor’s hand coming up to sit on his shoulder.

“Oh really? Well I’m practically an expert in them.” He purrs. “Maybe I could give you some tips? I have a pretty nice camera back at my place… We could take some together.” He chuckles. “See the photos that could have been?”

“Ah I’m not sure I would enjoy that.” Lance drains his champagne. Lotor huffs.

“That’s not what I’ve heard.”

Lance looks up sharply. He swallows the barrage of insults on the tip of his tongue and schools his features into a calm smile.

 

“Can I get you a drink?” Lotor nods towards his empty glass.

“No, no thank you. This is already my second one and it would be irresponsible to have another so soon.”

“Well if you feel like… getting a little _loco -“_ He laughs at his own wit. “Feel free to hit me up, cariño.” His long fingers trail over Lance’s back as he steps away. Lance’s frown is barely contained, but his eyes stay trained on Lotor’s back until he rounds the corner.

 

“What the fuck was that?” Keith breaks his silence with a hiss. “He can’t talk to you like that?!”

“He just did, Keith.” Lance sighs.

“But-!”

“Your job is to keep me safe. If you feel Lotor is a threat, then by all means step in, otherwise…” His blue eyes are as cold as the deep ocean. “Don’t bother.”

Keith scowls.

“C’mon, lets go find Allura.”

 

They move from the exhibition halls back out into the secured courtyard. The sun has set now, but the yard is well lit with fairy lights and rustic lanterns. It’s densely packed as more people have arrived and the guests anxiously wait to be let into the ballroom for the main event. They find Allura standing in a corner, laughing with a girl with dyed, blue, hair tied up into space buns. Her chiffon sea-foam, green, gown brushes along the floor, and her pearl accessories gleam in the light.

 

_Plaxum_. Keith recognises. She giggles with Allura and hangs off the arm of another man, dressed in a boring black tuxedo. Keith feels himself sneer at it.

 

“Good evening,” Lance cheerfully steps into the group, not hesitating to be around one of his exes.

“Oh there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Allura loudly shouts. Her formal politeness crumbles around Lance.

“I told you not to leave me alone, you know I’m terrible at mingling.” She hisses. Lance sniggers.

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be. Luckily Plaxum came and found me or I would have been forced to talk to someone far less pleasant.” Allura winks at the other girl.

“Well thanks for doing that, Plaxum. How are you?” Lance smiles widely, turning his charm up to 11. Plaxum clutches her boyfriend’s arm tighter.

“I’m great. I’m really great. It’s lovely to see you again, Lance.” She smiles. “And looking so fantastic. Your jacket is stunning.”

“Lance always has fantastic taste. It’s one of the few reasons I still put up with him.” Allura laughs. “You look like an antique disco ball, and I mean that in the nicest way.”

In the dim light of the lanterns, Lance gleams even brighter. The crystals woven into his black jacket sparkle like the stars against the night sky. Flecks of light and colour fall from his shoulders and land on the partygoers around him.

 

“Thank you, uh… this was Keith’s choice actually.” He speaks very quietly. Allura looks up at the mention of his name, and finally catches sight of Keith just outside of the group, standing in darkness.

“Oh, Keith! I didn’t see you there!” She beams. Keith steps forward, inching into the small group.

“Sorry, Allura. How are you? You look radiant as always.” He politely nods.

“Oh this old thing.” Allura gestures at her beaded gold gown. It looks heavy and expensive.

 

A bell rings in the distance. The ball room is finally open. Keith turns to his client.

“Private security will look after you during the dinner. I’ll meet you at the doors when the event is over. I’m allowed to keep walking you around the exhibition afterwards if you’d like.” He speaks low and quiet.

“I think I’ll just want to go home.” Lance sighs.

“I understand.”

“Shiro’s waiting for you in the green room.” Allura calls over the group. Keith is thankful for that knowledge. He smiles at her.

“Then I won’t keep him waiting. Have a safe night, everyone.” Keith nods to the group. He and Lance exchange a glance, unreadable and heavy in the night. He turns on his heel and leaves.

 

Navigating the crowded courtyard is difficult, and Keith feels like he’s swimming upstream as he dodges the guests and the trains of their gowns. He finally reaches the edge and is about to exit when he hears someone call.

“Excuse me? Sir?” It’s a feminine voice and unfamiliar. Keith continues walking.

“Sorry, excuse me-“ The calling persists and Keith hears the sound of heels hurrying along the stone floor. There’s a touch on his elbow. He wheels around and comes to face a tall woman. She’s thin and statuesque with high cheekbones and almond shaped eyes. Her blonde hair is pulled into a glossy, high, ponytail, and she wears a revealing black gown.

 

“I’m Nyma.” She greets and holds out her hand. _That’s right_. Just Keith’s luck. He takes her hand out of social convention.

“Keith.”

“You’re Lance’s boyfriend, right? Sorry to catch you like this, but I wasn’t sure when else I’d see you.” She laughs. “How is he? Is he enjoying all his success?”

Keith blinks at her, not sure where to begin. He decides that letting go of her hand is a good place to start.

“Oh I’m…” He nervously looks around. “I’m not his boyfriend, I’m just his bodyguard.”

“Oh,” Nyma looks… disappointed? She deflates slightly and does not laugh it off like Keith expects her to.

“But Lance is good! He’s under a bit of stress right now but… he’s fine. He’s enjoying the challenge.” Keith answers the second part of her question. He feels it is honest enough for this shallow interaction.

“Oh…okay…” She sighs. A scowl comes across her angular features. “Sorry, I must look really stupid. I was just…” She chuckles. “I just worry about him sometimes, you know? And I was really hoping he had met someone. That he was happy with someone.”

Keith’s eyes narrow.

“If you care about him so much, why did you break up with him?” He’s way out of line, but it’s worth it to see the scandalised look on Nyma’s face. Her expression turns from shocked into a devious smile.

“Oh… oh _I_ didn’t break up with _him_.” She shakes her head.

“I’m sorry, I just-“

“It’s fine. Lance and I are very different people. Or maybe too similar? Either way I could tell that I couldn't be everything he needed.” She shrugs. “It was just a matter of time.”

“How… how could you tell?” Keith tries. He knows this woman doesn’t have to give him any more of her time, but she smiles at his question. There’s a softness to her hardened exterior.

 

“Little things here and there, you know…” She chuckles. “The thing I most remember though?” She grins sharply.

“Sometimes… at events like this, I would catch him staring at someone else.”

Keith’s eyes widen in surprise. Lance has the reputation, but he’s never shown himself to be disloyal in the time he’s spent with him. Lance has always seemed dedicated to his friends and family, so he expected he would be the same with his romantic partners.

“Who?” The question slips out. Nyma’s eyes sparkle.

“Some pretty bodyguard, standing in the corner usually.”

She places her hand on Keith’s shoulder and leans in close. Keith can smell the perfume on her neck.

“I loved your modelling by the way. You could really make that a career you know.” Her breath fans across his ear. She pulls away with a knowing smile.

 

“I have to go.” Is all Keith offers. He turns his back on her and takes the final few steps into the maintenance door that will take him to the green room.

 

…

 

“Hey! There you ar-“

Keith marches straight past Shiro and collapses on the couch. He pulls out his earbuds and waits out the next two hours in a classical music stupor.

 

“Alright… guess you’re in a _mood_.” Shiro shakes his head at his overdramatic friend.

 

…

 

When Keith hears the doors open, he files out to the courtyard to wait for Lance. He picks him easily out of the crowd and sweeps him towards the car. They share a brief goodbye with Allura and Shiro, before moving into the vehicle.

 

The street lights stream hypnotically past the car’s windows, casting colours and reflections on Lance’s face in the back seat. He stares pensively out the window.

 

“Did you have a nice evening?” Keith tries.

“It was okay. Pretty similar to last year.” Lance shrugs.

“Well I’m sorry the Holts weren’t there.”

“Mmmm.”

 

They don’t speak for the rest of the ride home.

 

“You don’t have to walk me up.” Lance says when they reach his parking garage. Keith has undone his seatbelt already.

“I do. It’s my job.”

“Okay.”

 

They walk through the lobby and into the cramped elevator. Has it always felt this small? Or this slow? It dings open and Keith is relieved at the wave of fresh air. He holds the door as Lance steps through.

 

He takes Lance to his front door, who opens it, then pauses. This would usually be where he invites Keith for dessert, or to play some video games. It would be where they would hug and wish each other goodnight. Now Keith has no idea what their routine will be. How do their evenings end now?

 

“Keith…” Lance starts. He’s fidgeting with his keys. “I’m really sorry about… about earlier today.”

“It’s okay.”

“Not it’s not. I should never have put you in that position.” He sighs, then runs his fingers through his hair, messing up his slicked back look.

“If you could just… It would really help me move on if you could just reject me outright.” He laughs humourlessly. “I’ll give up on you if I know you don’t care about me.”

 

_But I do care about you_.

 

Keith swallows. He looks Lance firmly in the eyes, knowing that this is for the best.

“I don’t… feel that way about you… Mr McClain.” He struggles to force it out. Lance sighs, then smiles sadly. He pats Keith’s shoulder.

“Thank you for being honest with me.” He squeezes his arm. “Goodnight, Keith.”

“Goodnight, Mr McClain.”

 

…

 

When Keith gets back in the car, his shaking fingers fumble his keys. They drop to the floor with a clink, disappearing into the darkness.

“No! Shit…” He hisses. He reaches his hand under his seat, between his seat and the centre console, then beside the door. Each time he comes up empty handed and his movements become more erratic.

“Where the fuck…. shit, shit! I can’t- I CAN’T!” Keith crumbles. The feelings he’s been trying to hold down surge up in a wave of loss and frustration. The sobs come sudden and violently, and Keith feels like his ribs are going to give way. Like a single brick becoming loose in a dam, the pressure becomes all too much. He breaks.

 

He sits in the front seat of his car, thrown across his steering wheel, sobbing until his throat is raw and no more sound comes out. His chest heaves and burns with the effort of taking in air. His long hair sticks to his wet cheeks.

 

It’s only when he is too exhausted to cry anymore, that his wails die down to small whimpers. The hole in his chest still feels cavernous, but he can’t stay in this garage lamenting what he’s let go. _Who_ he’s let go.

 

He finds his keys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me haha.
> 
> As they say, it's always darkest before the dawn.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thrilling finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh huh.... look at that rating go up to mature...

The next two weeks feel like an eternity, marching slowly forwards to an end that Keith cannot see. He continues to do his job and follow Lance’s schedule as he normally would, only in a manner that is incredibly not normal for him. To an onlooker, his interactions with Lance would appear fine, but Keith notices the small things. 

 

He feels the absence of warmth between them. He notices how his hand feels empty now without Lance’s in it. Lance does not ask him questions about his personal life, take him to nice restaurants, or  wrap his arms around his shoulders anymore. He stands slightly farther away than he ever has. His fingers no longer find excuses to graze Keith’s cheek and he no longer invites him to stay the night to play video games or eat ice cream. 

 

Lance smiles less. That hurts the most. Keith is sure he’s smiling less too, but he doesn’t have to face that absence directly. He misses Lance’s smiles. His musical laughter that would fill his days with fun and joy. Now Keith’s days are dark, repetitive, and dull. He follows the same routine in a stupor, made all the worse because he can’t help but compare it to how things used to be. Keith feels trapped. Suffocating. Like he can’t get enough air in his lungs because of this hole in his chest that widens each day.

 

He hates it. He hates it so much. Lance’s touch haunts him like a dream. Not concrete enough to be a memory. It had happened, right? He at least got to taste him before he gave it all up?

 

This is for the best.

 

He tells himself in the mirror every day before work. _This is for the best. This is for the best. This is for the best._

 

He hasn’t cried since the night he lost his keys in the car, but it feels like an ever looming threat. He wonders what will finally push him over. Will it be Lance completely dismissing him? Or maybe just their fingers accidentally brushing. As the weeks go by, the edge of the cliff becomes more solid. Keith worries less about descending over the precipice. Instead of feeling like he’ll burst into tears at a moment’s notice, he starts to not feel anything at all. Numb and cold. That’s better. At least it’s more stable. 

 

He drives Lance to his dress rehearsal for the AMAs on a Friday afternoon. The awards are just the next day, so the theatre is teeming with lighting, sound and stage managers. Camera crews are already starting to set up their positions, running through shots as various artists perform, so they know when to have a closeup, when to have a crane shot and when to pull wide on the big night. Women with clipboards walk through the seating, laying down cards with celebrity names on them. Keith notes that Lance will be seated towards the front, where he’s sure to get some time on camera, in between the Holts and some female pop star that Keith mostly recognises from seeing her name trending on twitter. He expects it will be excellent television. 

“Alright, you're next to Matt,” Keith smiles politely. Lance nods at the posters on the front of the chairs.

“They usually like to put us together.” He sighs. “We always try to have fun and dance with each other. Cameras love that junk.” He laughs humourlessly. 

 

Keith takes a seat in the audience, careful to choose one reserved for a +1 and not an actual celebrity, as Lance is whisked off back stage by the directors and stage hands. He emerges several minutes later dressed in his performance outfit. A light blue collared shirt with pink flamingos on it, a skin-tight, white, tank top, and worn, light blue, jeans. It’s all very Miami and suits the summer party theme that Lance is performing. He saunters to the centre of the stage, his guitar low on his hips, plucking a complicated melody. The lights flash around him as the technicians quickly scroll through their several cues, before they finally reach the right setting for Lance’s set. 

 

“One, two. One, two.” He tests his headset, and the sound engineers adjust their levels. 

“Alright, we only have Lance for two hours. Let’s try to get it right.” The director calls over a megaphone. The stage manager’s voice crackles in his headpiece. 

“Ok, Mr McClain. Take it from the top when you’re ready.”

 

Lance nods. He begins his guitar strumming and slow, but bright singing. It’s after an impressive run that the live band kicks in and Lance throws his guitar to a passing stage hand. Keith recognises the choreography now. He anticipates every sharp pose and kick. He knows this performance back and forth, but he still enjoys watching Lance give his everything to it. However, when Lance smiles, something pangs in Keith’s chest. Because the smiles are no longer directed at him. Lance does not make any eye contact with Keith throughout the whole performance. Not the first time they run it, or the second, or the fifth. Keith pulls out his phone when he finally realises that Lance is not going to send any cheeky winks or kisses his way. He feels detached. Like he’s looking through a window at a party he wishes he had been invited to.

 

He scrolls through his twitter feed and news articles until the director calls it a wrap. Lance is given a run down by one of the stage managers when he will need to leave his place in the audience to make his way backstage, and where his costume and dressing room will be. Lance notes it all down in his phone, then goes back stage. He emerges in his regular clothing, wiping his damp forehead. He hops off the stage and walks over to Keith in long strides. Keith stands. He tucks his phone back into his pocket.

 

“All finished?”

“Yeah.”

“Feel ready for tomorrow?” 

Lance begins to walk out of the theatre and Keith falls in to step, walking slightly behind.

“I think so. I’m pretty comfortable with it now.”

They enter the parking garage and Keith opens the back seat for Lance. His client slides in with a nod. He folds into the driver’s seat and begins to pull out of the garage and wander down the city roads. It is starting to get dark now and the lights of the business district twinkle in the dimming light. Lance rests his eyes and leans his head back against his headrest. 

 

“Hey.” He croaks. 

“Hmmm?”

“I don’t have anything for dinner. Can we stop somewhere?”

“What do you want?” Keith asks. “Do you have your wig or anything?”

Lance’s mouth curls into a frown.

“No.”

Keith sighs.

“We can’t go to proper sit down restaurant. But we could do maybe a take away place? In and out, real quick. Should be ok.” He shrugs.

“That’s fine.”

“You know a place?”

“Yeah. There’s a Greek place on the corner up here.”

 

Keith sees the neon sign reading “Nick’s!” in bright blue and white luminous letters. There’s a small gathering of plastic chairs and tables on the sidewalk and a few planted shrubs to try and give the place some isolation from the busy road. Keith parks across the road in a gravel parking lot.

“I can order for you. It’s probably better if you stay here.”

“But I don’t know what’s on their menu anymore. It’s been a while.”

“Ah jeez.” Keith sighs. “Keep your head down then.”

 

They jaywalk across the street at a jog and enter the quiet restaurant. There’s only a few tables inside, and some plastic chairs on the other side of the counter for people to wait on their orders.

It’s still early in the evening, only just six o’clock, so the restaurant is thankfully quiet. An old man at the counter looks up when the front door bell tinkles. He looks over Keith and Lance with a pleasant, but bored expression.

 

“Hello, welcome to Nick’s. Dine in or take away?”

“Take away.” Keith responds quickly. 

Lance stands next to him and looks up at the menu. The pictures of yiros and pides have faded from years of sun exposure. He ponders for a while until he eventually orders a falafel and haloumi yiros with a diet coke. 

“Do you want anything?” He asks over his shoulder at Keith. Keith’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. 

“I’m ok.” He answers quietly. Lance shrugs.

“I don’t mind. It’s really ok.” 

“Thank you.” Keith smiles softly. The offer feels comforting and familiar. It warms his stomach. He sighs.

“Can I get a spinach and feta pide?” He orders.

“That’s all you want?” Lance asks.

“Yeah.”

“Alright.”

The old man gives them their total and confirms that it will take about 10 minutes. Keith and Lance sit on the old, plastic chairs in the corner to wait. Lance pulls out his phone, whilst Keith stands guard. 

 

He feels exhausted, and Lance looks just as tired next to him. His sweaty hair has dried into stiff curls at the base of his neck and around his ears. Keith leans his head against the window hoping the cool glass will wake him up. It doesn’t. If anything, he finds it soothing compared to the warm, garlic infused air of the restaurant. He watches cars and people walk past, likely finally just escaping their troubling jobs for the day. Most wear suits or pencil skirts and their fancy shoes clip clop on the sidewalk. 

 

It’s when Keith is following the line of a woman on a scooter that he sees him. A man crouching behind a bush wearing a dark jacket and beanie, looking like he’s tying his shoe… but there is a large camera around his neck. 

“Shit…” Keith hisses.

But it’s just one person. So what if they get a few photos of Lance waiting in a restaurant? It’s fine. Keith can deal with one.

 

But then he spies another pulling up and waiting behind one of the umbrellas. Another one leans on a trash can. They breed like locusts. Why isn’t their food ready yet?

 

He watches as a distinctive crowd forms around the restaurant. They are paparazzi, which is annoying, but not dangerous. They won’t touch Lance if they want to keep their jobs.

“What are they waiting for?” A causal female voice cuts over the crowd. A young woman, dressed in a blouse and heels is walking with her friend. They look at the crowd with curiosity.

“They have cameras…” The friend murmurs.

“This place have a major health code violation or something?” The first girl laughs. Her eyes wander over the glass of the front doors, trying to peek in. Then her eyes widen with recognition. 

 

“Is that… is that Lance McClain?”

 

The reaction is immediate. Someone walking overhears and comes to peek, waving at his friends when he confirms it so. More people come to gawk until a full mob forms in less than two minutes. There are many civilians now, and those are the ones who are dangerous. They _will_ rush forward to try and grab Lance or talk to him if they get the chance. The paparazzi, with their desperation to get the perfect shot _without_ other people, creep forward, and the civilians desperate to get a closer look also inch closer. This creates a domino effect of people pushing and shoving until they are merely feet away from the doors. 

 

“Time to go!” Keith announces. He grabs Lance’s hand and pulls him close. He slaps a $50 note on the counter as they brush past.

“For your trouble. Don’t mind us.”

 

He pushes Lance past the counter and they make their way into the small kitchen. The chef and kitchen hands look up in confusion. A stout woman with a stained apron starts to chastise them  in Greek. 

“We’ll be out in a second!” Keith calls. His eyes move panicked around the kitchen searching for the rear entrance. There’s always a rear entrance. 

 

Keith finds it, a door between the fryer and a fire hydrant. 

“C’mon,” Keith holds Lance close and they rush for the door. 

They empty out into a dark, wet, alleyway. It’s lined with dumpsters and cardboard boxes. There’s a delivery truck sitting at the mouth of the alley.

 

“Lance!” 

Their heads whip towards the alley’s entrance. A cluster of paparazzi lie in wait, smart enough to have figured out that they would not emerge from the front door.

“What…?” Lance looks panicked. Keith has to stay calm. The crowd at the alley’s entrance grows, blocking out the streetlights.

 

“This way!” Keith takes Lance’s hand again and they run deeper into the alley. Their feet splash in puddles and the air turns stale and foul. Steam billows into the air from a pipe. 

“Keep running, just like at the beach.” He squeezes Lance’s hand supportively. Lance nods and runs faster. Now he is in the lead and Keith flanks him protectively. There is light up ahead.

 

“Shit.” Lance whines as he almost careens into a high wire fence. It reaches a good metre and a half above him. He looks at it pitifully, but Keith has already sprung into action. He kneels, with his palms clasped between his legs.

“I’ll boost you. You can do it.”

Lance licks his lips.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Lance,” Keith levels him with a look. He sighs.

“Alright.”

 

Lance steps onto Keith’s waiting hands and leans onto his strong shoulders.

“3, 2, 1, UP!” Keith hoists him into the air. Lance squawks and claws onto the fence. He lifts his leg over the top, getting stuck for a second as he straddles it. His hands tremble as he clings to the thin metal. 

“You’re alright. Take your time.” Keith nods. Lance’s legs shake, but he manages to scramble down onto the solid earth once again. Keith sighs.

 

He backs up to have a running start, then sprints and launches himself towards the fence. In an impressive display of strength and agility, Keith scales the fence with ease. He hops down from the top and hits the ground in a crouch.

 

“Let’s go.” He whispers. Lance smirks.

“Alright, Spiderman.”

“You should see me out of a suit.” Keith chuckles.

 

They jog towards the mouth of the alley that is thankfully empty of any gawkers or paparazzi. The night sky is completely dark now, which helps Keith feel more at ease. Lance’s dark skin and hair stand out less in the night streets, but it’s still not ideal. Every time they stroll under a bright street light or pass someone on the sidewalk, Keith’s heart stutters.

 

“There!” Keith points towards a 24 hour corner store. It boasts cheap food, toiletries, and basic clothing options. It’ll do. He wraps his arm around Lance and steers him towards the discount retailer. 

 

They enter and wince at the flickering fluorescent lights. Keith makes a beeline for the cheap jackets and hoodies. He grabs a tacky, navy blue hoodie that says “Hollywood” across it in block letters and puts it on Lance. He grabs a bright red windbreaker for himself, slipping off his tie and suit jacket. He shoves them into a cheap, black, backpack. He then takes Lance over to the hat racks. There’s a purple LA Lakers cap, and Keith thinks that is inconspicuous enough. For extra camouflage, he also grabs a pair of black rimmed reading glasses. He tells Lance to wait in the corner whilst he goes up to the counter to purchase everything. 

 

Once everything is paid for, Keith goes back to Lance and dresses him in the hoodie, cap, and glasses. 

“Pull the hood up.” He reaches behind Lance’s neck and flicks it up.

“Can you see? Are you getting a headache from the glasses?” He asks.

“No, no, it’s fine. Really.” Lance checks his reflection in a mirror. Keith has definitely done an impressive job at concealing him.

Keith pulls on the red jacket and backpack.

“Shall we?” He holds out his hand.

Lance takes it.

 

They walk out of the store, staying close to each other, and Keith pulls them down the busy street. Lance’s feet slow.

“Wait… your car…?” He looks over his shoulder, in the direction he assumed they’d be walking.

“We can’t go back there. I’ll get it in the morning.”

 

Keith walks purposefully forward, his plan forming clearly in his head. The business district turns into a collection of upscale shops and busy restaurants and bars that come to life in the dark of Friday night. Music pours out from a busy Italian place, and heavy bass and shouting erupts from a sports bar across the street. Keith scans the road until he sees what he’s looking for. There is a small sign and an escalator that sinks down into the earth.

“Here we go,” Keith jogs for the escalator. Lance looks confused until he looks up and sees the ceiling covered in metro maps. At the bottom of the escalator, in the depths under the road, is a ticketing booth and rows of turnstiles.

“The subway?” He gawks. Keith smirks.

“Sorry, my prince, but you’ll have to travel amongst the peasants today.”

Lance chuckles. 

 

“I have… no idea how to get back to my house.” Lance stops in front of a map. Line A, Line B, light rail, subway… he can’t make sense of any of it. Keith walks up to an automated ticketing machine and comes away with two tickets. He hands one to Lance.

“Well thankfully this street rat is your escort.” He smiles. Lance laughs. 

“You know how a turnstile works?”

“Yes!” Lance scoffs. “I’ve been to Disneyland.”

“Alright, good.”

 

Keith leads Lance through the turnstiles and they walk further, down another set of escalators until they reach the inky pit that is the subway platform. It’s cold and everyone’s voices echo. The train rattles past, bringing with it a humid, rotten breeze. The doors hiss open.

“Your chariot, good sir.” Keith gives a little bow.

“Oh thank you, good sir.” Lance bows back. They both step onto the train.

 

There is only standing room left, but Keith manages to spy a pair of seats right next to the opposite door. He pulls Lance through the sweaty mob and they collapse in the chairs. They are stained and the walls are heavily graffitied, but they are comfortable enough to tolerate for the 45 minutes that their ride will take. Lance is perched nervously on the edge, his eyes flitting back and forth along the car. Most people purposely avoid eye contact on the train, but occasionally people do find their gaze drawn by the movement of someone new entering the carriage. Lance notices several people looking at him. A middle aged woman with shopping bags and a stout frame narrows her gaze at him. He pulls his hood up further and stares at the ground, hoping that she’ll stop. 

 

She does not. Keith notices. With a practiced sigh and smile, he inches forward on his seat, making direct eye contact with the woman. 

“He looks like Lance McClain, right?” He chuckles. The woman’s eyes widen and she blushes with embarrassment.

“He does! I’m so sorry, I was just-“

“It’s fine, it’s fine. He gets it all the time.” Keith pats Lance’s thigh comfortingly. “I keep telling him he should enter a lookalike contest.” He laughs.

“He should!” The woman beams.

“Oh no, I’m nowhere near as good looking.” Lance joins in. 

“Babe, you’re crazy.” Keith playfully backhands him. Lance blushes and bites his bottom lip. The woman smiles.

“You’re just as handsome. Your boyfriend wouldn’t lie to you.”

“See?” Keith nudges him in the ribs.

“Alright, alright, maybe next halloween.” Lance chuckles.

 

The train slows to a stop and the doors open with a hiss. The woman gathers up her shopping in her strong arms and waddles through the crowd.

“I’m off, but it was lovely meeting you two.”

“Have a nice night!” Keith waves. The doors close and both men breathe a sigh of relief.

 

“That was surprisingly smooth.” Lance smirks. His voice is quiet and rumbles in Keith’s ear. Keith chuckles.

“What about you? Think they’ll nominate that performance of yours for an Oscar?” 

Lance hums. He sits back in his seat more comfortably now. Keith wraps his arm around his shoulders and pulls him into his side. 

“Here, take a rest. Close your eyes. We’ll be here for a while.” He murmurs. Lance looks up.

“But I’m not that tired.”

“True, but people tend to not like looking at gay PDA and your blue eyes are pretty distinctive.” Keith smirks. Lance pouts.

“Alright then, if you insist.” He snuggles into Keith’s side and rests his head on his shoulder. It’s warm and comforting. 

 

The vibration of the train and the warmth of Keith’s embrace lulls Lance into a light doze. It’s surprisingly pleasant, even in the filth of the subway and with the uncertainty of where they are headed. He feels himself fall into a trusting doze when his shoulders are lightly jostled.

“Hey, this is our stop.’ Keith’s voice is gentle and light against his ear. Lance’s bleary eyes open and he groans. Keith’s laughter vibrates in his chest.

“Have a nice rest?”

“It was good.” Lance smiles and rubs his eyes, knocking his glasses askew. Keith reaches out and straightens them with a tender smile.

“C’mon,” He stands as the train slows and offers his hand. Lance takes it and is pulled onto his feet.

 

They leave the train and ascend up a flight of stairs before emerging on a quiet street bathed in moonlight. There are some boutiques and cafes along the street, but their insides are dark now, closed for the night. Lance breathes a sigh of relief. He recognises this place. He’s about two blocks from home.

 

They walk along the sidewalk, but Keith notices that he’s continuously outpacing Lance. For the third time he pauses and waits for him to catch up. He looks over his shoulder with an observant eye at the other man.

“Are you limping?” He asks.

“Mmmmmmm, no?” Lance tries. Keith stops him.

“What’s wrong, have you twisted your ankle?” He lowers onto one knee and tries to touch the foot Lance is shying away from. Lance pulls it back.

“I’m fine.”

“Lance.” Keith looks up and levels him with a cold stare. He reaches forward again. Lance stays still.

 

Keith raises the cuff of Lance’s left pant leg, expecting to see some swelling, but that’s not what he finds. Instead, he sees a large cut, shallow, but seep enough that blood has dripped down Lance’s leg and dried into a crusty ridge. The cut is about 20cm long, and the skin around it has swollen with irritation.

“When did this happen?” Keith’s touch is gentle and his gaze is concerned. Lance sighs.

“When I was climbing the fence. I caught my foot at the top.”

“What?” Keith stands. “Are you ok? Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Lance turns up his palms. Red grazes scour them.

“I also didn’t stick the landing too well.” He chuckles. Keith sighs and tenderly laces their fingers together.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m fine. I didn’t want you fussing.” Lance frowns. “I also felt really pathetic not being able to climb that fence, so I didn’t want you knowing that I’d hurt myself too.”

“Oh, Lance.” Keith chuckles. “I don’t care about that, I just want you to be safe. I’m sorry I didn’t notice.” His hand moves soothingly up and own Lance’s forearm. He stares guiltily at the floor.

“I _should_ have noticed.”

“No, Keith, it’s ok. I hid it _because_ I didn’t want you to notice.” Lance smiles. He tucks his finger underneath Keith’s chin and gently lifts his gaze. Their eyes meet.

“We’re almost home thanks to you. Let’s keep going.” He smiles.

 

Keith huffs.

“Alright.” But instead of moving forwards, he moves to Lance’s side. He tucks an arm behind his knees and another around his shoulders. Lance tenses and shrieks as he is lifted up, bridal style. He clings to Keith’s jacket in shock.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got ya.” Keith looks down at his surprised face with a grin. “Can’t have you walking on your injured leg.”

“You can’t carry me all the way home!”

Keith’s laughter rumbles low in his chest. He grins wider, until his teeth are visible.

“Watch me.”

 

He holds Lance securely against his chest and walks the remaining two blocks with ease. He manages to even juggle him enough to open doors, enter the elevator, and walk through the front door of Lance’s apartment, all without dropping him. He smirks down at Lance as he begins to climb the stairs.

“Are you impressed?”

Lance huffs and crosses his arms.

“Not really.” But the dark blush on his cheeks and ears tells a different story. 

 

Keith sets Lance softly on his bed, then stretches his weary back and arms with a grunt.

“Don’t think I’ll need to do weights tomorrow.” He laughs. “Wait here.”

He walks into Lance’s ensuite and emerges with a red, fabric box. He opens it on the bed, revealing alcohol swabs, band-aids, bandages, burn ointment, a chemical ice pack, and all sorts of other medical supply goodies.

“Since when do I have a first-aid kit?” Lance ponders. 

“Since you hired me and I bought you one.” Keith smiles. He kneels in front of Lance and rolls the cuff of his pant leg up to his knee. He takes an alcohol wipe out of the kit and opens it. His grip on Lance’s ankle is secure.

“This might sting a bit. Sorry.”

“I’m a big boy.”

“So you say.” Keith smirks. His expression then turns serious as he tends to Lance’s cut. He rubs the wipe over the cut, removing the dried blood and cleaning the area. Lance hisses above him.

“Almost done.” Keith soothes. He places some cool antibiotic ointment over the cut, then wraps it securely in a bandage. He sighs and looks up at Lance expectantly.

“Let me see your hands now.”

Lance does so with a smirk.

“So dutiful. I could get used to you taking care of me.” He laughs. 

“I always want to take care of you, Lance.” Keith’s words are soft. He keeps his gaze down so he misses the small gasp from the man above him. Lance is silent as he watches Keith get to work.

His hands are warm. His calloused fingers move gently over his cuts, cleaning and dressing them in a similar manner to his leg. When they are clean and wrapped, Keith keeps his hold on them. His eyebrows are pulled together in concentration, as if he’s debating something in his own head. 

 

He’s reached an obstacle and is unsure of how to proceed. He keeps his gaze intensely focussed on Lance’s palms, as if they will provide him the answer. Finally, Keith closes his eyes with a resigned sigh. He was always going to fail at this. He’d fallen too hard long ago.

 

With an eerie sense of peace filling him, he kisses both of Lance’s palms, then leans up and kisses Lance on the corner of the mouth. Quickly and chastely. So soft and timid that Lance thinks he may have imagined it. He stares at Keith with a shocked expression and blinking eyes.

 

“Was…” Keith’s eyes dart to the side. “Was that okay?”

“Yeah.” Lance wheezes. He looks at the uncertainty on Keith’s face, the nervous way he keeps his eyes focussed anywhere but on him. Lance smiles. He softens and reaches forward, tucking Keith’s hair behind his ear. He lightly chuckles. Keith finally meets his gaze. It’s warm and affectionate. Lance’s eyes are bright and the blush on his cheeks only makes him look prettier.

“You can do it again if you want.” He smiles. 

 

Keith worries his lips. Then nods.

“Okay.”

 

He raises up and sits himself beside Lance on the bed, before he reaches out once more. He cups Lance’s neck gently and brings their lips together in a soft, but warm kiss. Butterflies erupt in his stomach. Lance hums contently and presses forwards, moving his hands over Keith’s muscular chest and up into his long hair. He tangles his fingers in the long strands, holding his head as he changes the angle of his jaw to deepen the kiss. 

 

Keith relaxes. His mouth moves against Lance’s with relaxed, but shallow movements. He feels himself smile into it. Lance giggles. His hand grips Lance more firmly by the neck, and his other comes up to sit on Lance’s slim hip. He’s lightheaded. He feels intoxicated, tasting Lance’s lips and the smell of his coconut scented skin flooding his nostrils with every breath. He could stop here. He _should_ stop here. This one moment is enough to sate him for a lifetime, but there’s another voice screaming at the back of his head. The other voice that notices how Lance’s nails begin to scratch his scalp, how his body has contorted to fit against Keith’s. The other voice notices how Lance’s kisses become slower, like he’s trying to pull something out of Keith that he’s still keeping to himself. All of this leads the voice in the back of Keith’s head to chant: _more, more, MORE, MORE_ until it is screaming.

 

Keith grunts, searching for _more_ , he slips the hand on Lance’s hip underneath his shirt and over his stomach. Lance gasps at the touch, and Keith greedily seizes this opportunity to deepen the kiss. He slips his tongue into Lance’s gasping mouth, and it sets off explosions in the back of his mind. 

 

Now he’s done it.

 

Lance moans and eagerly reciprocates, wetly running his tongue along Keith’s and winding his legs tightly around the other man. Keith’s hands move over the bare skin of his torso, and his skin raises into goosebumps. His touch shoots electricity through his body, so his muscles flex and twitch under Keith’s fingertips. The feel of Lance’s skin is everything Keith has fantasised about. Soft and smooth, with a pleasant firmness of lean muscle underneath. He feels Lance’s abdominals tense as Lance pulls him in closer, scooting himself practically into Keith’s lap. Keith sucks on his bottom lip and gives it an experimental bite. Lance moans. He tugs at Keith’s hair and redirects Keith’s mouth onto his, plunging his tongue further into his mouth. 

 

Keith is panting now, in between kisses when he can sneak in a breath. His hands wind around the smooth plane of Lance’s back, and he reaches down to squeeze his ass. Lance responds to the touch by immediately breaking the kiss. His eyes are glassy and his lips are swollen as he stares at Keith with a heady expression. His chest rises and falls with the effort of pulling air into his oxygen starved lungs. Keith licks his lips with want. He follows Lance’s lips as he lies back on the bed. Lance grabs him by the collar, pulling Keith on top of him like he doesn’t have a choice. Keith finds himself leaning over Lance, pleasantly nestled in between his legs, when he begins to kiss him again. 

 

Their kiss is composed of more tongue and teeth than lips, and Lance wraps his arms tightly around Keith’s neck. He hitches a leg over Keith’s hip, and Keith runs his hand over the leg to securely grip Lance by the ass. The tension in Keith’s pants is a dull throbbing now, and in this position, his crotch is aligned with Lance’s. He can feel the swell and heat of the man beneath him. With a firm grip on Lance’s ass, he experimentally begins to move against him. The effect is instantaneous. Lance throws his arms back and gasps. He arcs his hips to meet Keith’s as he pushes against Lance, again, again, and again. Keith slows his thrusting and releases Lance’s leg, deciding to turn his attention now to the exposed column of his neck. He kisses it sweetly by the ear lobe, then sloppily licks and bites it, taking the delicate skin firmly between his sharp teeth. Lance hisses. Keith releases the skin and moves his tongue over it in a wet, but soothing motion.

 

“Should…” He breathes in Lance’s ear. “Should I stop?”

“What?” Lance tries to turn to see his face. “No! No, not at all.”

Keith hums. He moves his hands underneath Lance’s shirt again, bringing his fingertips over the pert and sensitive nipples with a teasing motion. He continues to sweetly kiss Lance’s neck, now moving towards his sternum.

“What do you want me to do?” Keith grazes his teeth along his throat. Lance swallows. He has many ideas of what he wants Keith to do, but he cant vocalise any right now. Not when he’s chasing the friction of Keith’s erection against his, and he’s being so lovingly caressed. His brain short circuits. Instead all he manages is a “Huh?”, breathy and needy. Keith stops all of his ministrations. He raises up on his elbows and looks down at Lance with messy hair and dark eyes. His lips glisten with saliva.

 

“Lance,” His tone is more serious. “I’m asking you how far you want me to go.”

Lance blinks up at him. His shirt is hiked up to his sternum and his pants sit tauntingly low on his lips. 

“How…” He clears his throat. “Uh…how far do you wanna go?” He asks. 

Keith chuckles and shakes his head. His smile is the one that Lance loves. The one that shows his teeth and narrows his eyes.

“Lance,” His name sounds like a song falling from his lips. “I want to go as far as you’ll possibly let me.”

Lance lets the meaning of Keith’s statement fall into him. He soaks it up with a deep inhale. He then surges up and forcefully kisses Keith on the mouth.

“All.” Lance pants against his lips. “All the way. I want you to have me.”

With a shuddering sigh, Keith nods.

“Okay.”

 

He leans Lance down and kisses him with more force, but Keith is on a mission now. His hands slip Lance’s hoodie off of his shoulders and pull his shirt over his head. With his chest completely naked now, Keith takes his time treasuring it. He kisses down its tanned expanse, licking and kissing over each of Lance’s nipples. Lance whines at the foreign but welcome sensation. It makes Keith smirk, but he continues his exploration down his torso. He kisses the line of lean abdominal muscle and licks into Lance’s navel, eliciting a giggle from the man underneath him. Keith breathes hotly over Lance’s waistband, and nibbles the pronounced juncture of his hip. His hand palms over the hot bulge, before he finally takes pity and undoes the constricting pants. 

 

In a smooth motion, and with Lance lifting up his hips, Keith removes both Lance’s dance pants and briefs, leaving him completely naked and wanting underneath him. He licks his lips, like a predator about to devour, marvelling over the beauty and sensuality of Lance’s body. He leans over and licks a hot stripe up Lance’s cock. It twitches and begins to leak onto his toned stomach. His toes curl.

 

“Keith,” Lance gasps. Keith smiles and raises up onto his elbows.

“Do you have any supplies?” He asks.

“Yeah. Top drawer of my dresser.” Lance pants.

Keith dutifully runs across the bedroom, rummaging in the drawer until he pulls out a bottle of lube and a condom. He comes back over to the bed and is about to get to work, when Lance puts a firm foot on his chest.

“I think you should take some clothes off before I let you inside me.” He smirks. Keith chuckles.

“It’s only fair?”

“Of course.”

 

He stands and Lance eagerly sits up to get the best view. His eyes watch hungrily as Keith slips off his jacket, then he methodically unbuttons his shirt one button at a time. Lance feels himself harden and leak more as he’s given a peak of collar bone, then pectoral, abdominals, then finally the strong V of Keith’s hips leading down towards his crotch. Keith smirks as he lets his shirt fall. Lance sighs.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” His eyes roam over the deep cleavage between Keith’s pectorals and his pronounced six pack. Lance cannot wait to see them tense and flex as Keith pushes into him. His cock twitches at the thought.

 

“You like what you see?” Keith teases. His fingers are achingly slow on his belt.

“Uh huh.” Lance is practically drooling.

“Well good. Because now you know how I feel.” Keith lets his pants drop, revealing his black boxer briefs and the hard, erect, tent of his dick. Lance’s mouth fills with saliva. Keith creeps forwards onto the bed, nestling himself in between Lance’s long legs.

“You’re so beautiful, Lance. I never get tired of looking at you.” He whispers and kisses down a tan thigh. Lance leans back and gasps.

“I think I could cum just looking at your abs.” He breathes. Keith laughs and the breath is hot against Lance’s crotch.

“Well try to hold out a bit longer.”

 

He coats his fingers in the lubricant and slips them between Lance’s cheeks, rubbing teasingly against his entrance. He kisses and nibbles Lance’s thigh, as he slips in one finger. He sighs at the heat inside and feels his own cock swell. He moves his finger in and out until it becomes easy.

“Adding a second now.” He warns.

“Okay.”

 

Keith presses in his middle finger and repeats, thrusting into Lance, hoping that it will relax him and prepare him for himself. But Lance does not relax. He still feels tight and occasionally will make a small nose. Keith looks up and sees that Lance’s eyes are shut tight and his eyebrows are knitted together. He stops. 

“Lance… have you done this before?” He asks. Lance opens his eyes.

“N… no.” He admits. “Like to myself, but I’ve never had sex with a man so….” He looks sheepish. Keith pulls his fingers out.

“Maybe we should swap.”

“No!” Lance sits upright. “Keith please.” He kisses him on the mouth. “Please, I want you so bad. I want you to take me.” He pleads and presses his naked body against Keith’s. 

 

And how can Keith say no to that? He closes his eyes to collect himself and nods.

“Okay. We’ll take our time then.” He sighs. “Lie back down.”

Lance complies with a smile.

 

Keith resumes fingering Lance, thrusting in and out, whilst kissing his thigh or mouthing his dick to distract him. Eventually it does become easier and Lance starts to melt under him. 

“Third finger.” Keith adds a third and Lance moans at the stretch. Keith smirks, knowing what is about to come next. He lets his middle finger rub against Lance’s walls, until Lance’s legs bolt straight. He gasps and whimpers underneath him.

“Oh! There! Keith!”

Keith movies his fingers into Lance faster, pushing at his prostate, fucking him with his hand. Lance whimpers and pushes his hips downwards, trying to get Keith to hit that magical button inside him again. Precum pools on his taut stomach.

“Oh, Keith, Keith, fuck me, please. Fuck me, now.” He babbles. His fingers grip the sheets underneath him until his knuckles turn white. 

 

Keith nods. He pulls his fingers out and quickly shuffles out of his briefs, his erect cock falling into full display. Lance swallows. His eyes take in his length, the glistening tip, and the swell of Keith’s muscular thighs and ass. Keith grapples with the condom wrapper in his slippery fingers, finally managing to open it. He slips the condom on, then coats his length in extra lube. He crawls over Lance’s chest to give him a reassuring kiss.

“I’ll take it slow.” He kisses his cheek. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

“Okay.” Lance breathes.

 

Keith kisses him slowly, whilst lining himself up. Lance feels Keith’s cock probe against him and he sucks in a breath with anticipation. Keith nips at his lips.

“No, no. Breathe.” He chastises. He rubs his hand soothingly up and down Lance’s thigh as he presses closer. Lance nods and tries to regulate his breathing.

“Good, good.” Keith coos. He begins to press in. Shallowly thrusting in just his tip, moving ever so slightly deeper and deeper with every movement. 

“Oh,” The gasp slips from his lips. Lance is so hot, tight and slick around him, he can’t help but feel dizzy. His knees tremble, but he manages to keep his thrusting slow and controlled. He feels Lance relax as he becomes used to the feeling of being filled. His mouth goes slack and his eyebrows unwrinkle. Keith inches deeper and deeper until he is fully sheathed in Lance’s body. He sighs.

 

“That’s all of me.”

“Mmmm, you feel big.” Lance hums.

“Are you uncomfortable?” Keith leans over on to his elbows and kisses Lance on his cheek. Lance shakes his head.

“No. Feels kinda weird.” He laughs.

“Bad weird?”

“Like I have your dick in my ass weird.” He chuckles. Keith feels the vibrations around him and hums. He leans down and kisses Lance wetly, letting his tongue lick over his plump lips. 

“Well, the plan is to hopefully make you feel very _good_ now.” He purrs. Lance wraps his arms around Keith’s neck and kisses him deeply. He sighs against his lips and grins.

“What are you waiting for then?”

 

Keith chuckles and lifts onto his elbows as he slowly begins to pull all the way out, then sink back in, fucking Lance deep and thorough. Lance starts to moan underneath him. His eyes close and his hands fall onto the mattress. Keith closes his eyes, losing himself in the delicious push and pull. Feeling that Lance is thoroughly used to the sensation by now, he grips on to Lance’s leg, underneath his knee, and lifts it onto his shoulder. This opens Lance up and raises his hips, so Keith can sink even deeper. Instead of falling back in slowly this time, he thrusts in hard and fast. Lance’s eyes snap open and he gasps. Keith does it again and Lance tips his head back. A soft “Ah” falls from his lips.

 

Sweat gathers at the base of Keith’s neck and he can feel himself losing his composure. Lance’s light sounds turn lewd as he lets out high gasps and whines. The room is filled with his gasps and the sound of wet slapping.  A fluttering heat curls in the base of Keith’s abdomen that wants to spur him on faster and harder. He grabs Lance’s other leg and props it on his other shoulder, lifting Lance’s hips up higher and at a different angle. Keith slams into him.

 

“Oh!” Lance shouts. “There! There!” He moans and gasps.

Keith’s cock rams against his prostate, sending electric shocks throughout his body. He fists the sheets below him. His whole body trembles as Keith now moves at a brutal pace, fucking Lance with sharp, focussed thrusts. Keith looks down. He looks at his cock moving easily into Lance’s lithe and wanting body. He sees how Lance’s cock bobs with the motion, swollen and spilling onto his stomach that flutters and tenses underneath his touch. His eyes are blown wide, and he looks up at Keith with a glistening mouth that begs for more. Keith swears under his breath.

 

“Fuck, Lance. Fuck.” He hisses. “God, you’re so hot. You feel so good, taking all of me.” He reaches down and grasps Lance’s cock firmly, pumping it along with his thrusts. His thighs tremble and the fast, but precise rhythm starts to stutter and become erratic. He folds over Lance, pressing their foreheads together, sharing hot breaths, until Keith’s lower half convulses. He pants Lance’s name and reaches his climax, his grip on Lance momentarily slowing as he loses himself. 

 

As he begins to come down, he notices Lance’s erection still swollen and hard in his fist. Lance bites his lower lip and his eyes are pressed close together. He pushes his hips up desperately, trying to continue Keith slide into him. Keith turns his attention immediately back to his lover, taking a firm hold of his cock once again and pushing his hips to ride out the last of his tremors. He presses their foreheads together again and sloppily kisses Lance.

“Lance, come for me.” He whispers. Lance’s eyes fly open, responding to the sound of his name sounding so tender and ragged. Keith meets his dark, glassy, gaze.

“Lance, baby… come for me, baby.”

 

Lance keeps his gaze locked onto Keith as he sharply inhales, gulps for air, and ejaculates onto his stomach. Keith keeps his hand moving, now slippery with cum, and kisses Lance deeply. He sucks on Lance’s tongue as he carries Lance through the aftershocks of pleasure, until they both slow… then stop. Keith pulls out with a grimace, gently lowers Lance’s legs onto the bed, then immediately goes back to kissing Lance, now pliant and thrumming with pleasure. Lance receives him by wrapping his arms tightly around his neck and sighing into the kiss.

 

It’s slow and languid, touched by fatigue and the sluggishness that comes from the other side of an adrenaline rush. Keith’s kisses turn from deep and sensual, to something gradually more shallow and sweeter. He smiles against Lance’s lips, then kisses his cheek. His other cheek. His forehead. The tip of his nose. Lance giggles.

 

“Keith,” He whines. Keith looks down at him with a chuckle and sighs. He sees Lance with his short hair sticking up in all directions, his eyes lidded with affection, and his heart is full. Lance’s fingers card through his long hair with a hum. He runs his knuckles along Keith’s jaw and sighs.

“So beautiful.” He sleepily smiles. Keith smirks. He leans down and kisses him on the cheek.

“That’s my line.” He rumbles. He places two more quick pecks on Lance’s lips before he sits up fully. He turns so that his legs fall over the side of the bed.

 

“No,” Lance gasps. He grabs Keith’s wrist. “Don’t leave.”

He sounds small. Keith smiles over his shoulder. He sees Lance’s worried expression and reaches out to caress his cheek. Lance leans into the touch. 

“I’m just going to the bathroom for a towel. I’ll be right back.” He gives Lance a final kiss on the cheek, then stands.

 

He walks into the ensuite and peels off his condom with a grimace. He tosses it into a garbage can, then begins to look for a wash cloth. He finds several, but they all look too nice. They are too fluffy, or are anagramed with Lance’s initials. He settles for an older looking, grey, hand towel. He runs it under the tap until the water turns warm and wrings it out. He wipes down his own crotch before he rinses it and wrings it out again. 

 

He walks back into the bedroom to find Lance still drowsily splayed out naked over the sheets, looking sated and warm. Keith smiles. He takes the warm, damp, cloth and wipes it over Lance’s stomach, down between his thighs, and in between his cheeks.

“There,” He sighs. “Much cleaner.”

Lance holds his arms up and pouts. 

“Come. Cuddle me.”

“So needy.” Keith chuckles, but he tosses his towel to the side and climbs across Lance’s body, nestling into his side. Their noses touch. Keith drapes his arm over Lance’s slim hip, as Lance finally takes the opportunity to move his hands up and over Keith’s bare chest with no distractions. His fingers press between the cleft of his pectorals, feeling the strong muscles rise and fall with Keith’s deep breaths. Keith kisses his lips several times. He smiles into every one. 

 

“How are you feeling? Was that ok?” Keith kisses his cheek and pulls Lance in closer, so their bodies press against each other. Lance sighs at the warmth of it. He hums and hides his face in Keith’s neck, suddenly feeling shy.

“Yeah.” He sighs. “Yeah it felt really good.” The tips of his ears turn pink. Keith kisses his temple and cards his fingers through his short hair. 

“Good, I’m glad.” 

“Did you like it?” Lance nervously mumbles into his neck. Keith chuckles and pushes Lance back, not wanting to sever contact, but just enough so that he can see into Lance’s face. Lance keeps his gaze down and he chews his bottom lip. Keith kisses him to make him stop. He hums and gently brushes his knuckles over Lance’s soft cheek. He smiles.

“Of course I did.” He presses them close together again, still not yet ready to let Lance out of his embrace. 

“I’m enjoying this a lot too though.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmm hmm.”

 

Lance’s fingers move up and down Keith’s spine, tracing the curve of it down to the base and then over his hip. Lance pulls back so he can once again greedily touch Keith’s stomach and chest. Keith watches with curiosity. Lance’s touches do not move in a groping or sexual manner, but more like he’s trying to commit Keith’s body to memory. Trying to appreciate every slope or curve of Keith’s body, before this moment dies. He looks up from beneath dark lashes. He lays his hand to rest on Keith’s chest. He feels his heartbeat thud against his palm.

 

“Stay with me, Keith.”

 

His voice is barely audible. It’s thick with emotion. It sounds like a simple request request, but Lance knows that he is asking Keith for everything. Keith was right to call him selfish. He knows it’s true. But he wants more.

“Please… stay with me.”

 

Keith sighs, but smiles. He lifts Lance’s face by the chin and stares at the face of the man who has made his past few months so good. The man who has filled his days with teasing smiles, laughter, and warm touches. Keith moves his hand to cup Lance’s jaw. 

“I will.” He promises. “I’m not letting you go.”

 

Lance’s eyes become watery and he has to break away from Keith’s loving gaze. He buries his face in Keith’s neck and wraps his arms around his shoulders, holding him impossibly tight. Keith reciprocates the embrace. He holds Lance around his slim middle and closes his eyes, breathing in the calming scent of jasmine and his own musk rubbed onto Lance’s skin. 

“Thank you.” Lance whispers.

 

They stay like that for a minute, until Keith’s arms start to lose circulation. He shifts his grasp.

“Do you like being the little spoon?” He asks with a grin. Lance’s face lights up and he eagerly flips around, pressing his back into Keith’s front. Keith lets his hand rest and glide up Lance’s smooth stomach, until Lance reaches up to tangle their fingers together. Keith, feeling like he’s already addicted, begins to kiss up Lance’s sharp shoulder, over his neck, then comes to a rest at his temple. Lance preens under the adoring touches. 

 

They doze together, their legs amidst one another’s, and Keith’s hand still on Lance’s stomach when he feels it vibrate. A small rumble cuts through the romantic atmosphere of the room. Lance scoffs. Keith giggles into the back of his head.

“We never got dinner.” Lance groans. Keith kisses his cheek.

“Do you wanna order some pizza?”

“Fuck yes.” Lance exclaims. Keith laughs as Lance eagerly rolls across the bed and reaches for his phone. He pulls up the ordering app, already loaded with his address.

 

…

 

Keith wakes in the morning, stiff, but feeling the most serene he has felt in a long time. He blinks several times as he reboots his memories of the night before, realising that they are indeed memories and not the remnants of some wonderful dream. He looks down at Lance, splayed across his bare chest, sleeping soundly. Keith looks at the clock on the bedside table.

 

8:43 am.

 

Keith sighs. It’s late for him. And he really needs to pee. He tries to slide out from under Lance, but it is difficult. He thinks he has successfully escaped, and is just about to step onto the floor, when two tan arms ensnare his waist.

“No,” Lance whines. “Don’t leave.”

“Lance-“

“You said you’d stay.”

 

Keith sighs. He tousles Lance’s hair, then bends over to kiss the top of his head.

“I’ve just gotta take care of some things.” He smiles. “I’m not running away.”

Lance keeps his hold firmly around his stomach.

“You’ll still be with me at the awards show tonight, right?” He pouts. Keith turns and lowers himself to look Lance in the eye.

“I will be there.”

Lance mulls on the honesty of Keith’s words.

“Okay.” He loosens his grip, but raises up on his elbows expectantly and closes his eyes. Keith chuckles. 

“So spoiled.” But he kisses him without hesitation. It’s long and lingering. Their lips part with a soft smack.

 

Keith clambers off the bed and quickly throws his pants and shirt on. He doesn’t bother with his tie or rumpled jacket. He’s not looking forward to the hike back to his car, but he expects it’s probably safer if he doesn’t drive immediately. He’s too lightheaded and giddy to possibly be responsible right now. He finishes tying his shoes. 

 

“I’ll see you tonight.” He kisses Lance one more time. Two more times. Ok, ok…. three should do it.

“You better.” Lance warns.

 

Four more times.

 

…

 

Keith sits in Kolivan’s office in what feels like a sense of deja vu. Keith smiles at the cyclicality of it all. Keith sits behind the bare desk, squirming under Kolivan’s hard, critical gaze. The large man scowls, finishes his typing, and turns his full attention towards his subordinate. He crosses his hands on top of his desk.

 

“You requested a meeting, Kogane?”

“Yes.” Keith answers quickly. He is still unshowered. His shirt is rumpled and his hair is shoved into a ponytail, trying to look as little like sex-hair as possible.

“And what is this about?”

“I’m quitting.” 

 

Kolivan stares at Keith trying to figure out whether this is a joke or not. When Keith shows no sign of crumbling, he closes his eyes, counts to three, and sighs.

“I assume this is effective immediately?”

“Sorry.” But Keith does not look apologetic as he rummages in his shoulder bag. He produces his ID, security cards, and Lance’s file. He thumps them all on the desk. Kolivan begins thumbing through them. He pushes them to the side. 

 

“You should get your leave payout by the end of the week.” He states. “Now go home. You look a mess.”

“Of course. Thank you, sir.” Keith grabs his bag and stands… then pauses. 

“End of the week? Payout usually takes a fortnight to clear.” He gives Kolivan a questioning look. His boss just raises his cup of coffee to his lips. 

“You’re not slick, Keith.” There’s a hint of a smile to his lips. “If you think you’ve gotten away with anything…” He takes a sip.

“You haven’t.”

 

Keith gulps.

“Thank you sir, I’ll be on my way.”

He scuttles out of the office before Kolivan can clarify the full meaning of his words. 

 

…

 

Lance sits on the edge of his couch ready in his floral printed, navy suit, the one Keith had initially liked when they went shopping just a few weeks ago. It’s late, and Keith has yet to arrive. Lance would usually be worried about being late for his function, but today he worries that something has happened to Keith. He taps his foot with impatience.

 

His intercom buzzes and he sprints over.

“Come in!” He cheerfully answers.

 

He positions himself in front of the elevator, waiting to greet his lover. His hands shake at his sides with anticipation. He straightens out his sleeves and combs his hair flat, hoping his curls will behave for once. The doors ding and slide open.

 

A man walks out.

 

A stranger.

 

He is dressed in a black suit and there’s a visible ear piece on the side of his head. His dark hair is greying around the temples. He’s tall, with broad shoulders and a narrow face and jaw. His nose is slim. He steps forwards. Lance shuffles backwards.

 

“Mr McClain,” The man produces his identification. “Marmora security agency sent me over. I apologise for my tardiness, I was a last minute arrangement. My name is Thace and I will be Keith’s replacement for the evening.”

 

Lance ponders the ID in his hand. It looks legitimate, but he cannot seem to process anything. There are too many concerns and questions rushing through his head. The words on the security card appear blurry with his confusion.

 

“Replacement?” Is all he manages. Thace nods. 

“Yes. He quit.”

Shock crosses Lance’s features.

“He didn’t tell you?”

Lance shakes his head. 

 

He follows Thace in a daze and barely listens as his surrogate bodyguard explains the evening’s plans and how and when Lance will be moved in and out of the theatre. 

“Will Keith meet us there?” He interrupts. Thace looks back skeptically, like he wonders if Lance is processing everything correctly.

“Why would _Keith_ be there?”

 

Lance goes silent. He does not explain himself, but just stares at his phone, looking at the lack of messages. His finger hovers over Keith’s contact, but he never dares to actually press down. He needs to gather himself first. He closes his eyes.

 

_Keith had promised._

 

…

 

Lance walks onto the red carpet into a cacophony of flashes and shouting. Out of habit, he turns over his shoulder to find comfort in Keith, only to remember that he is not there. He feels alone for the first time as he marches along the long stretch. He poses for photos, chats amicably about his suit and its designer to the reporters, and gives bite sized interviews.

“Yes I am performing tonight!”

“I would be thrilled to win, but I am in a very competitive category, so I will be happy for any of my competition to win as well.”

“Yes my album will be out by the end of the year.”

“No I will not tell you whether I have been signed on for a sequel film.”

“No, I will not tell you the name of my first single.” 

He repeats over and over and over.

 

He finally makes it to the end of the gauntlet to find Matt, Pidge, and Hunk standing at the edge of the carpet. They all greet each other warmly. Hunk looks past Lance to see Thace at his flank.

“Thace?” He asks. His eyes roam further down the carpet. “Where’s Keith?”

“He quit.”

“WHAT?!” Hunk, Pidge, and Matt all exclaim. Hunk immediately turns back to Lance. He places a comforting hand on his shoulder. Pidge takes his hand.

“Oh, Lance…” Is all the comfort she can summon.

“Are you ok?” Hunk asks.

Lance shrugs.

“I… don’t… know?” He answers truthfully. He still hasn’t processed this all yet, but he can’t let panic grip him just yet. He has a performance to give, and not just on stage. He’s about to have a camera shoved in his face for the next three hours, waiting for his reaction and dissecting every smile and frown. He has to keep his composure.

 

“Shall we?” He holds out his arms. Matt and Pidge link with him. They walk into the crowded theatre.

 

…

 

Thace explains that he will meet Lance at the side of the theatre when it is time for him to go backstage, but otherwise he will be reliant on the security of the theatre whilst he is in the audience. Lance takes his place next to Matt and prepares himself for the long evening.

 

He does his best to have fun and celebrate with his friends. He laughs at the hosts jokes. Dances during the performances, and applauds loudly when someone wins. When his category is announced, and the Holt’s end up winning over him, he jumps up and gives them both a huge hug, clapping them on the back in excitement.

 

Matt thanks him in his thank you speech. Lance blows him a kiss. 

 

Two hours pass and at Thace’s appearance at the side of the theatre, Lance makes his way out of the audience and is escorted through the cast doors to the backstage area. The walls thump with heavy bass from the Holt’s current performance. Lance smiles as he catches glimpses of it on the television sets backstage. 

 

Thace leads him through the corridors, past set pieces, back up dancers, and announcers, towards the dressing rooms. His adrenaline is starting to pick up now. The atmosphere of back stage during a live performance is exciting and rejuvenating. He approaches the familiar door with his name on it, and walks through. His eyes scan over the room for his costume and guitar, when he sees the man sitting by the mirrors. His dark hair is tied up and he wears a rich burgundy coloured suit. His violet eyes narrow when he smiles.

 

“Keith,” Relief runs through Lance and he runs into Keith’s waiting arms. Thace looks on in confusion.

“Sorry, my pass was only good for backstage. I could only meet you here.” He holds Lance by the hips and leans down to give him an apologetic kiss on the lips. Lance melts into it. What was supposed to be a quick peck turns into something more heated. Lance wraps his arms tightly around his neck and opens his mouth wider. Keith sinks into it further. He pulls away, slightly breathless.

“It’s ok. Make it up to me later.” Lance winks. Keith rolls his eyes.

“You need to get changed.”

 

Keith finally notices the other person in the room.

“Oh! Thace!” He blushes. “You got my job? That’s great!”

“I am _temporary._ ” He drawls. “And if I ever have to see something like _that_ again, I will officially put Mr McClain on my blacklist of clients.”

 

Keith barely works out an apology before his attention is back on Lance. He compliments his suit and takes off his jacket, folding it and placing it on the dressing table. He does the same with Lance’s shirt and pants. He’s handing Lance his performance outfit when the door flies open. 

 

Matt, Pidge, and Hunk enter, startling Thace into a power stance. He sighs when he realises who it is. They crash into the room, whooping and hollering, then freeze as they see Keith. He stares at them with wide eyes, whilst he holds Lance’s jeans open. Lance has his hands on his shoulders and is frozen naked and mid-step. They gawk at the intruders.

 

“Keith!” Hunk breaks the silence. The shock pops like a balloon. Lance finishes stepping into his jeans, and pulls them up to his hips.

“So you are here! Thace said you quit.” Hunk laughs and claps him on the shoulder. “I knew that couldn’t be right.”

“I did quit.” Keith states. He pulls down the hem of Lance’s tank top. 

“Then what… what?” Matt squawks. “How… why…?”

 

“Hey babe,” Lance has slipped on his Hawaiian style, over-shirt. It’s a desaturated colour scheme with faded turquoises and pale yellows, printed with bright pink flamingoes.

“Honest opinion. Do you like this shirt?” Lance holds his arms out. Keith steps forward and straightens his collar.

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“I think it’s awful.” 

Lance scoffs.

“But!” Keith smirks and pulls Lance close by the lapels. “I think somehow _you_ pull it off.”

“Mmmm, because I’m so hot?” Lance purrs. He drapes his arms over Keith’s shoulders.

“Or because it lets people see how tacky you truly are.”

“Ugh, rude.” But Lance still leans forward to peck him on the lips. Keith smiles against it.

 

“Never mind, I think we can figure out _exactly_ what’s going on here.” Pidge groans. Matt elbows her.

“Don’t be rude.”

“It’s fine.” Lance picks up his guitar and takes up a seat at the back of the room. He begins to tune it and warm up his fingers. He sings scales to himself.

 

“Hey…” Hunk sidles up next to Keith. He speaks from the side of his mouth. “Like I’m happy for you two and everything, but aren’t you pretty broke? I don’t wanna pry but…” He whispers. 

“What are you gonna do?”

Keith sighs. He’s gone over and over this all day now, prepared for the onslaught of questions from his boss, his friends, and Shiro. He shrugs.

“I’ll figure it out. But I know a guy who definitely owes me one. I should get a good pay out from that at least.”

 

He looks relaxed as he walks over to where Lance is warming up. He stands behind him and cards his fingers through Lance’s hair, trying to get it to fluff up how he likes. Lance giggles under his touch. His strumming loses it’s rhythm. 

“Stop,” He laughs.

“No, this is what you have to put up with now.” Keith does not stop as he leans forward and kisses Lance’s cheek. 

 

Matt walks towards them. He chews his bottom lip in thought.

“Hey Lance, good luck with your performance tonight.”

“Thanks, man! Your set looked great before.”

“Yeah well…” Matt rubs the back of his neck. “I also wanted to say sorry for winning over you. I really thought you deserved-“

“Oh my god.” Lance stops playing abruptly. Keith winds his arms around his neck. 

“Matt, I am proud of you and Pidge I super am!” He smirks. “But I really could not give a _shit_ about that award right now.”

 

Matt barks out a laugh. He punches Lance in the arm.

“Fair enough. Your heart’s somewhere else right now I can see.”

Lance grins.

 

A beeping sound, and a green light mounted on the wall blinks.

“Alright, showtime!” Lance hops up. 

 

Everyone follows him to the wings of the stage. Thace because he has to, but the others are all eager to watch. They wait on the sides as the previous winner is called up. He says his thank yous, which are predictable and uninspiring, then he walks off stage. It is the end of the night. Finally. At last. But Lance is going to send it off with a bang. He feels a new surge of energy run through his veins. The host steps into the spotlight.

 

“Ladies and gentleman, please welcome our final performance of the night, Lance McClain with his nominated song _Young Tonight!”_

 

The audience applauds and Lance walks out onto the dark stage. A single spotlight comes up on him and he clears his throat. His fingers pluck out the first few notes and they ring through the auditorium. Lance looks off into the wings to smile at Keith.

 

Keith stands radiant and beautiful in the green light of an emergency exit. His fair skin looks luminous, and his dark hair gleams like a raven’s feathers, shimmering in the green glow. It’s stupid. It’s so goddamned stupid, but seeing Keith standing there smiling in his best suit, nodding at Lance in adoration and support, stirs something in his chest. His fingers stop. 

 

The crowd murmurs. 

 

“Sorry,” Lance speaks into the microphone. “I know that I’m supposed to play _Young Tonight_ for you, but…” He chuckles. He turns the charm up to 11 as he places his hands on his hips. 

“I’m just not really feeling it, you know? So instead-!” He starts to play a different chord progression. It sounds familiar to Keith’s ears.

“Uh instead… how about I play my brand new single for you guys?”

The crowd whoops and hollers excitedly. Camera men improvise as they position themselves in the most optimum location and wait. No one comes out to tell Lance no or tackle him off stage. He beams. 

 

“Well alright then.” He laughs. “It’s a love song called _Cuban Days._ ” 

He pulls away from the mic and mumbles something down to the drummer in the live band. They give each other a thumbs up.

“I wrote this for my boyfriend.” 

 

Lance doesn’t give anyone a chance to react as he launches straight into the verse. He doesn’t hear the applause or Keith’s intake of breath from the wings. He doesn’t see how the camera cuts to Nyma smiling or Lotor’s shocked face. He just closes his eyes and plays. For once, this isn’t for them.

 

There’s only one person he’s trying to impress. 

 

 

_“I said lets go somewhere sweet._

_Feel some freedom and some heat_

_Tie up your hair and see the sun shine,_

_let me pretend that you are mine.”_

 

Keith looks on from the wings. His mouth agape. He recognises this song as the one Lance had been struggling to write lyrics to. The one Lance had jokingly suggested he make about Keith. The drummer in the band starts up a bass beat to accompany Lance’s strumming. 

 

_“Those Cuban days were so warm_

_When I touched you I was torn_

_because I_

_Wanted to hold you, and keep you and_

_make you mine,_

_Wanted to drown in you and ride the tides._

_Let me be pulled under your embrace and_

_burn in the radiance of your grace during these…_

_these Cuban days._

 

_Drink this wine and eat this fruit,_

_Let me tell you that you are cute._

_Dance with me along the beach at night,_

_Or in the pouring rain when I think we’re out of sight._

 

_I feel your touch on me like it was burned in my skin_

_Think of you when I’m alone, oh what a terrible sin._

_Let me kiss you please, oh please I just want kiss you._

_Wanna kiss you god, I’m begging to just kiss you.”_

 

Keith’s chest aches at seeing Lance pour his heart out. He wonders how long Lance has been working on this. He thinks back to the previous fortnight where they had been cold and distant to one another… is that when he had finished this?

 

_“Esos días en Cuba, tan cálidos_

_Tocarte me destrozó pues yo_

_Te deseaba entre mis brazos, sólo para mí,_

_Sumergirme en ti, ahogarme, y sobrellevar la marea._

_Déjame llevar por tu abrazo y_

_Arder en el resplandor de tu gracia_

_Durante esos..._

_Esos días en Cuba.”_

 

Lance sings in Spanish and Keith gasps. His lips curl into a smile and he brings his hands up to his lips. He’s shaking. His eyes glisten with tears.

 

_“Those Cuban days were so warm_

_When I touched you I was torn_

_because I_

_Wanted to hold you, and keep you and_

_make you mine,_

_Wanted to drown in you and ride the tides._

_Let me be pulled under your embrace and_

_burn in the radiance of your grace during these…_

_these Cuban days._

 

_I want to stay with you in these…_

_these Cuban days.”_

 

The last delicate melody of Spanish guitar rings out with Lance’s sweet voice. Silence fills the stage. 

 

Lance bows to uproarious applause. Nyma stands in the audience, triggering a standing ovation. Lance wipes tears from his eyes, waves, then jogs off stage. He crashes into Keith like a wave, and the other man moves easily against him. Keith kisses him fiercely with an intake of breath and his hands on either side of Lance’s face. Lance tastes salt on his lips, but is not sure who's tears they are. His heart beat thunders in his chest. Keith pulls away just an inch, stopping the kiss but keeping their lips in contact.

 

“I love you.” He breathes.

 

Lance surges back to kiss him and he’s sure that the tears he tastes are definitely his. His eyes squeezing tight does nothing to slow his tears of joy and relief. He worries he’ll pull Keith’s expensive suit apart with how tightly he grips him. He sniffles wetly.

“Love you too.” He hiccups. 

 

Keith pulls his handkerchief out of his breast pocket. It’s supposed to just be decorative, but he does not mind soiling the silk fabric if it is for Lance. He tenderly wipes at his cheeks and nose.

“So messy. How could you live without me?” He smirks. Lance chuckles.

“I couldn’t. So you better stay with me.” He knots his fingers with Keith’s between them. Keith nods.

“Okay.”

 

…

**One year later**

…

 

“Oh, look at this handsome man dressed so finely. Whoever picked that suit for him must have exquisite taste.” Lance walks into their bedroom to find Keith putting the final touches on his outfit as he gets ready. It’s a black suit with red flowers embroidered on the shoulders, so they look like floral pauldrons. Lance embraces him from behind and kisses his jaw.

“Yes well, whoever picked this suit _has_ to have great taste because he did pick _me_ after all.” Keith smirks. Lance kisses him again.

 

Keith reaches for a black box on his dresser and opens it to reveal two garnet cufflinks. He attempts to put them on himself.

“Here,” Lance slides around to his front after watching his boyfriend struggle. “Let me do that.”

He fastens Keith’s cufflinks, then takes each of his hands and kisses them.

“I have a gift for you.” He smiles.

“Oh? Is it you doing the dishes for once?” Keith smirks. Lance’s smile immediately turns into a frown. 

“N…no.” He pouts. “You’re just better at that than me.”

“I’m not, but go on. What did you get me?” Keith plunges his hands into his pockets and rests back on his heels.

“Oh yeah!” Lance brightens.

 

He scurries over to the jewellery box on his dresser. He rummages through the drawers until he pulls out a black box, identical to the one Keith’s cufflinks were in. 

“Turn around.” Lance winks. Keith does so.

Lance reaches up and touches his high ponytail, then slips something into it. It scratches Keith’s scalp.

“Okay! Go have a look!” Lance claps his hands together. Keith moves forwards to look in the mirror.

 

It’s a small hair comb, with onyx and garnet decorative stones assembled into ornate curls and waves. Keith smiles and touches it with his fingertips. It’s small, but adds a touch of sparkle to his hair. He beams over at Lance who is nervously wringing his hands together.

“I love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

 

He kisses his boyfriend softly.

“I’m beginning to think you have a thing for my hair.”

“Oh no, where would you get that idea?” Lance smirks as he twirls his finger in Keith’s ponytail.

 

Someone clears their throat loudly.

“If you two are finished…” Thace drawls from the doorway. “Miss Allura and Shiro have been waiting downstairs for five minutes now.”

“Ah! Yes! Of course. I got distracted.” Lance takes Keith’s hand and they walk out of their bedroom.

“You always do.” Thace murmurs beneath his breath. Keith smirks at him.

 

They walk down the stairs to see Allura and Shiro waiting in the entryway. Allura is in a gleaming, pearlescent pink, gown, that cascades down her body and pools on the floor. Her hair looks especially soft and cloud like tonight. She resembles a grecian goddess.

“Oh look at this handsome couple.” She smiles at the two of them. “Always a pair of head turners. Who knew Lance McClain has figured out the greatest red-carpet accessory of all time.”

“Nothing says success like the prettiest man in the world on your arm.” Lance winks.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Keith sighs. “We’re going to be late.”

 

Thace and Shiro lead them down into the car. Shiro drives, Thace rides shotgun, and the other three smile and laugh amongst themselves in the back seat. Keith keeps his arm around Lance for the majority of the trip. They talk about who they hope will attend the premier, ask if Lance is nervous, and tease Allura about the pretty blonde actress she has been seen with recently.

 

“Enough about Romelle!” She orders. “We should really be talking about this very sexy 10 ft man out here. There he is!” The car rolls past a giant billboard plastered to the side of the building. It is an ad for Calvin Klein underwear, and the model is dressed in only a pair of boxer briefs. His long, dark hair is damp, and he brushes it off of his forehead with a seductive look. Lance wolf whistles at it.

“Alright, Keith! Congrats! You’re now a sex symbol.”

Keith groans and rolls his eyes. Shiro turns over his shoulder with an incredulous look. 

“Your junk isn’t really that big.”

“Don’t look at my junk!”

“It’s an underwear ad! Your junk is six feet tall! I’m supposed to look!” Shiro laughs. Keith scoffs.

“You’re right though.” He mumbles. “They stuff you.”

“I knew it.” Lance whispers. 

“Well it’s a very nice photo, Keith. You should be happy. Your career has really taken off.” Allura smiles supportively. Keith nods.

“Thank you.” He smiles and scoots forward, so he leans around the driver’s seat.

 

“Which reminds me….” His mouth grows into a teasing sneer. “Slav has been asking about you, Shiro.”

“No way.” Shiro answers bluntly.

“You’ll disappoint him.” Keith laughs. “Bring your handsome friend next time! Maybe we could put something together. I predict a 28% increase in his paycheck.” He puts on his best Slav impression.

“Yeah well there’s 100% chance that I will never go for it.” Shiro deadpans.

 

They are in the heart of Hollywood now and the car pulls up at a bustling theatre. Keith looks at the barriers of paparazzi and gulps. He suddenly feels anxious. 

“Thace, do we have plants in the crowd?”

“Yes.”

“And your earpiece is on the right frequency? Maybe I should-“

“Keith, stop telling me how to do my job and just focus on yours.” Thace snaps.

“And what is that?”

“Making me happy.” Lance kisses his cheek and takes his arm. Keith’s fluttering stomach stills.

 

The door opens and Keith walks the red carpet, not behind Lance, but next to him. Their hands and arms stay linked as they pose for photos. Keith smiles fondly as Lance talks excitedly with reporters about the sequel to his blockbuster hit. His hopes. His expectations. He talks about filming in exotic locations, and of course how wonderful and supportive his boyfriend is. 

 

“Can we get an interview?!” A man with a clipboard shouts.

“Of course!” Lance trots forward.

“Oh uh….. thank you, Lance, but I actually meant…” He laughs sheepishly. “I meant Keith?”

“What.” Keith blanches. Lance holds his hand and tows him forwards. 

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll be here to help you.”

Keith looks like a deer caught in headlights. Cameras flash and numerous microphones are thrust towards him, desperate to catch the quiet man’s words.

 

“Oh… ok.” He looks at the man with the clipboard.

“Great! So is it true that you started off as Lance’s bodyguard?”

Keith blanches.

“My actions in no way reflect the ethics of my previous security agency, and my unprofessionalism should not be an indicator of how their honourable employees conduct themselves.” He states robotically, like he has rehearsed it many times. The reporter blinks.

“So that’s a yes?”

“Yes.”

The reporter smiles. 

“So you’ve made the transition to model now, snatching some of the most enviable campaigns for male models. You’re on an upward climb. Do you think you might try your hand at any acting any time soon?”

“Oh god no.” Keith shakes his head. “I’m awful. I _cannot_ act.”

“He’s lying.” Lance comes into the shot and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “He has a cameo in this movie and he is great!” He shines with pride.

“I play a waiter and asking someone for their order was really all I could handle.” Keith chuckles. He’s grateful for Lance’s relaxing presence. 

“So no. I would not expect to see my name credited alongside Lance’s any time soon.” He smiles. The reporters write notes feverishly. 

“Ok, well thank you, but we have to go now or we’ll be late.” Lance politely dismisses any more questions and leads Keith to the end of the carpet.

 

Thace explains that he will wait with Shiro in the green room, but they will both meet them as they exit the theatre to take them home. Keith nods, knowing the usual drill.

 

They take their seats and Keith has to admit that it is exciting to be on this side of things. He sits between Lance and Allura, thankful that he does not have to mingle with any celebrities that he does not know. He’s also especially thankful that Lotor is seated a full three rows behind them. Lotor has kept his interactions with Lance professionally brief lately, which has been a blessing. Keith likes to attribute it to his presence.

 

The director moves to the front of the room and the theatre falls quiet. He thanks them all for attending, and his wife, and his cast and crew for their support. It’s short, but heartfelt. The theatre goes dark. Lance’s knee bounces with anticipation. Keith places his hand on it reassuringly. 

 

“So…” He whispers. “If you have another shirtless scene in this film, is it inappropriate for me to whistle?” He teases. Lance groans.

“God, Keith-“

“Hey,” Keith’s tone turns gentle. He reaches up to cup Lance’s cheek and turns his face so that their eyes meet. Keith rubs his thumb over his cheek in a tender rhythm.

“I’m so proud of you, Lance.” He smiles. “I love you.”

 

Lance lets out a long, deep, breath. The tension in his shoulders and thighs disappears and he sinks into Keith’s touch.

“God, I love you so much.” He breathes. He leans forward and kisses Keith chastely on the lips. “Remind me to propose to you sometime soon.”

“Not if I beat you to it.” Keith sharply grins. He takes Lances hand and squeezes it.

 

Keith kisses Lance’s cheek. In the darkness of the theatre, he does not worry about others looking. Lance angles his face to catch Keith’s lips. He does not worry about others at all anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving for work as we speak. I'll be back.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, my tumblr is http://irrevocably-voltron.tumblr.com if you wanna hit me up or scream things at me.


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